


Dear Addiction

by 221castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Benny Lafitte & Dean Winchester Friendship, Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Castiel is Not Okay (Supernatural), Cocaine, Cute Jack Kline, Dean Winchester Has Anger Issues, Dean Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Dean Winchester is Not Heterosexual, Dean Winchester is Not Homophobic, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester Bonding, M/M, Musician Dean Winchester, Rock Star Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 53
Words: 107,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24274585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221castiel/pseuds/221castiel
Summary: Despite being one of the biggest names in music Dean Winchester’s career has been labeled a crash and burn. With one night stands every other night, a mouthy attitude, and a drug addiction, not even his manager thinks he’ll make it past thirty. None of that seems to change when he moves to New York to help his recently widowed brother.Dean hadn’t expected more from the move then to sleep on an old couch, and look after some kids, but plans are changed when he meets Sam’s next door neighbour, Castiel NovakLeft between balancing his drug addiction, babysitting, his new crush for an extremely taken man, and his own crumbling career, the tipping point seems to be approaching sooner then Dean had ever expected.*trigger warning for drug abuse, and more
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 141
Kudos: 131





	1. Prologue

Name: Dean Winchester  
Date:

"Umm excuse me." The man sat behind the desk looked up, his eyes shadowed by his police hat. Dean's own eyes lingered there for a second before traveling down his body. His suit fit tight across his chest, the same fit following down his slim waist, clearly defining his figure. He was good looking, incredibly, with a hard jawline covered in a stubble, and soft lips that puckered out just the slightest "What's the date?"

"August 12th"

Dean gave a flirtatious smile, leaning forward so his elbows rested against the tall desk, his eyes looking just slightly up at the man. "Thank you officer..." He brought the pen to his lips, slowly rolling the tip between his teeth.

"Smith," the officer replied. Closer up Dean could see smaller features, the way the tip of his nose just turned slightly, the few freckles that scattered his tanned skin, and the way he shifted in his seat, taking forced breaths as Dean was lent in front of him.

Dean hummened in acknowledgment, slowly bringing the pen from his lips and to the paper, keeping his eyes on the officer for as long he could. Only quickly looking away to scribble the date. "Well officer Smith," Dean brought the pen back to his lips. He paused for a second, once again letting his eyes travel across the man's body, making no attempt to hide it "maybe if you're free sometime we could-"

"Dean!"

He rolled his eyes at the all to familiar british accent that filled the small lobby. Dramatically Dean stood up, plastering a sarcastic smile across his face as he turned to see Crowley, his manager standing at the door. "Crowley," Dean greeted, "I thought you were getting the car."

"Funny thing about that," Crowley didn't smile as he spoke, instead his lips stayed in a tight line. He glared daggers at Dean, surely imagining every possible way to kill him in that room alone, and Dean didn't blame him. "Moving a car from the back of the parking lot to the front doesn't take long, especially when i'm NOT HIGH OUT OF MY FUCKING MIND!" Crowley screamed. "Now would you like some help taking your trousers off, or shall we be on our way."

"Fuck you," Dean spat under his breath. He turned back to the officer, though the man had quickly dropped his head, his lips in a tight line as he tried to hold back a smile. Without another look at the officer Dean scribbled his signature and initials across the paper, before pushing it and the pen across the desk.

If he hadn't just come down from a high maybe he would've been embarrassed. Instead Dean was just annoyed, as he followed Crowley out of the police station and into the dark parking lot, lit only by a single lamp, and the distant lights of LA.

"You know" Crowley began, he'd stopped walking, instead adjusting the suit he wore, and pulling his keys from his panty pocket. "Most people get less horny when they snort bloody coke."

"Aren't I lucky."

Crowley gave Dean one last exhausted look before, he turned, walking to his car. "Where the fucks baby?" Dean asked, as he followed his manager to his sleek red, 2019, Ferrari. A brand that in Dean's opinion should've stayed in 2018.

"Are you a bloody idiot?" Crowley asked, he had his hand on the door handle when he turned to look at Dean. The anger was still clear across his face, and Dean was sure it'd be there for a long time, causing wrinkles across his forehead, and a blood pressure that was much higher than healthy. "You're high, so i'm driving."

"Am not!" Dean cried though Crowley didn't listen instead getting into the drivers seat.

Dean gave the car one last glare before he stomped forward, walking to the passenger door and getting in. As the engine hummened to life Dean rested his head against the window, the glass cold against his burning skin. He wasn't high, at least wasn't at his peak. It had been barely half an hour after he'd taken his third or fourth dose when they arrested him. Throwing him into an empty cell where he stayed for what felt like years, but couldn't have been more than two hours. As he went through the peak of his high, and then the downfall, the worst part, when everything in his body ached, and all he could think about was another dose.

Even now the cravings were still there, the racing of his heart, skin burning so hot he might as well have been lit on fire. And the distant thought that just maybe if he were to open the car door, as they raced through the LA streets, things would be over, and everything would be okay.

"The record company's furious," Crowley began.

"Fuck them."

"They're the reason you aren't rotting in a jail cell... and have a job!"

"And I'm the reason they make millions."

Dean kept his head rested against the glass. He watched the street lights speed by in a mix of greens, reds, and yellows, blurring in a mix of the car lights. They caused his head to spin, turning his empty stomach. "You've also lost them hundreds of thousands with your foulary!" Crowley paused his yelling, but Dean didn't respond, instead closing his eyes, he felt sick, though throwing up in Crowley's favourite car wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. "I've booked an interview for in a few days. You're going to show up, not high, pretend you never got arrested for having bloody coke on you, and be a good american boy, understood?"

"I can't go," Dean replied.

"Why?" Crowley spat, "Do you have plans to get high with Lee? Or fuck some poor twink? How about I pay for a whore! Or maybe" Crowley exaggerated as much as he could on the word maybe, "you'd like me to turn around so you can get fucked by officer googly eyes?"

"I'm going to New York."

"Excuse me."

"Yah," Dean finally opened his eyes, sitting up properly so he could face the other as he spoke. "My brother's wife died last month so I'm going to move in for a while to help him out."

"And when did you decide this.."

"I called him before I left with Lee so-" Dean hesitated, his mind still foggy with the drug, "I want to say a few hours ago, but who even fuckin cares about time nowadays."

"Fuck Dean!" Crowley screamened, which was the last thing he said for the rest of the drive. Instead keeping his head forward, and grip firm on the steering wheel. It wasn't until they had pulled up to Dean's house, where paparazzi filled the yard, that Crowley finally turned his head. "This is the plan. You're going to fly to New York, where-"

"I'm driving."

"You're a bloody idiot-" Crowley sighed before continuing, "you're going to drive to New York, where you will stay with your brother, clean and sober. I'll get you an interview with Jimmy Fallon, where you will say that it's all rumors. Afterwards you will not speak to anyone, take photos with anyone or even leave your brothers apartment. You will not go to a single bar or club, and you will not sleep with anyone while you're there. Do you understand?"

Dean turned his body away from his manager, instead glaring at the window, the flashing of cameras still visible through the tint. "I'm not a f*cking child."

"Then maybe you should stop acting like one. Now you better get going, if i've learned anything from touring with you i'm sure you have nothing packed."

"My car's still at the club, how am I supposed to get it?"

"Walk. Consider it your punishment."

Dean rolled his eyes, as he unbuckled his seatbelt, "Love you too, " he mumbled. He glanced back at Crowley one last time before pushing open the car door and stepping into the screaming crowd of paparazzi.


	2. Chapter one

"DEAN WINCHESTER!"

"DEAN WINCHESTER"

"IS IT TRUE-"

"OVER HERE"

"WINCHESTER"

Dean pushed through the crowd without a care of who he hurt or what he broke. Even he knew better than to stop and talk. One comment, and suddenly his whole weekend would be filled, cleaning up rumors the paparazzi had made, and listening to Crolwy's screams. "DEAN!" He lifted his arms both carrying large duffle bags, the crowd of paparazzi parted, though they continued to shove microphones and cameras into his face, until he had stumbled into the apartment lobby.

Even once the door was closed, he could still hear the flashing of cameras, and the screaming as people struggled for a better position. "FUCK OFF," Dean screamed. He raised both his hands, attempting to finger the press as he held both his bags.

An eruption of flashes came and before more could come Dean turned away dragging his duffle bags to the elevator. He pressed the button then lent against the wall letting his eyes flutter shut in absolute exhaustion. He could no longer hear them, though he was sure they were still there and would still be there long into the night; hoping to be the lucky one that'd get some sort of story of Dean's sudden move, and if it was involved with his rumored arrest.

He sighed when footsteps grew close. "Can you just fucking leave me alone," Dean snapped, no longer able to handle the constant press. They'd followed him from his until he was far out of LA, and that was what he hoped was the last of them. Apparently 1967 Chevy Impalas don't blend in well. "Do you want an autograph? Or money?" Dean's eyes snapped open, his mouth quickly dropping as he stared at the elder woman in front of him.

"Honestly." The women muttered, giving Dean a glare from under her large floppy hat that must have weighed double her. She shifted her grocery bags to one hand as she used her other to unlock her mailbox. After grabbing her mail she gave Dean another glare.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled. "It's been a long day."

"I can tell." Dean pushed himself off the wall, instead standing so all his weight lent on his right leg. He watched the women in interest as she shifted through her mail throwing each one into the garbage can after she had pulled off the stamp. Which she would then tuck into the pocket of her oversized purple dress. "It's going to be much longer if you keep waiting for the elevator."

"Yah I get it, exercise is important and all," Dean said rolling his eyes. "But I promise you lady, a few flight of stairs aint going t'save me from my heart attack."

"I don't know what your yambling on about but the elevators broken dumbass"

"Oh" Dean looked at the closed doors he must have been standing next to for almost ten minutes, the button no longer glowing like it should. "Uh thanks, maybe i'll see you around."

The women didn't respond instead turning away and walking back down the hallway, but not without giving Dean one last glare.

Dean watched the women until she'd disappeared through one of the apartment doors, before he turned to the staircase entrance. "Fucking New York," Dean muttered as he walked up the first flight of stairs. "Fucking angry grandmas, fucking broken elevators," the string of curse words continued up another three flights of stairs, down a hallway, and finishing with a 'fucking stairs', just as Sam opened the door.

A grin spread across Dean's face as his brother appeared in the doorway. He had grown even more, at least a few inches, his hair seeming to be trying to keep up as it reached his shoulder, and across his lower face a thick beard grew. Dean had lent in for a hug though the moment his gaze landed on the beard he lent away. "What the hell-" Dean dropped one of his bags using his free hand to reach for it though Sam swatted his hand away. "-Is that?"

"It's nice to see you too."

"Yah, I know." Dean teased, though he would never admit just how happy it made him to be seeing his brother in person. He picked up his duffel bag than pushed his way past Sam and into the apartment, where he once again dropped them onto the kitchen counter.

The apartment wasn't what he had expected, with things thrown around, the kitchen covered in dirty cups and plates. The conjoined living room looked much the same. It was nothing like what Dean had expected from his clean freak of a brother. "Things are a little messy," Dean commented. He bent down, picking up a photo that had fallen off the fridge. It was one of Sam and Jess on their wedding day, Jess' smile wide in a laugh, while Sam was caught mid sneeze. Dean hadn't known her well, but she was nice, and had made Sam happy.

When Dean stood properly he saw Sam already picking up various dishes, dropping them in the sink as he spoke. "Sorry, things have just been so chaotic since the- since the funeral," Sam continued to adjust the small things he could, as Dean watched. "I meant to clean before you came but-"

"Sam," Dean insisted, but his brother didn't stop. "Sam! Sammy!" Sam finally stopped, a few strands of hair falling in his face as he looked to Dean. Now in the brighter lighting Dean could see the dark bags that outlined under Sam's eyes, and the ashen colour that had taken over his usual tan skin tone. "It's fine. My house is much worse." That was a lie, his house was pristine clean, though only thanks to the people he paid to clean it. "Just tell me how things are going."

Sam sighed. He sat down at one of the dining room chairs, Dean following in suit. "We've- we've been managing. Some days are harder than others, like when Ellie and John both have things they need to get to, or I have counselling, but we've been managing." Sam ran his hands across his face, pushing his hair behind his ears. "They go back to school in a month, I don't know what I'm going to do then, with work, overtime, and counselling I barely have time to take care of them as it is, never mind with all the extra driving around."

Dean lent forward as Sam buried his face into his hands, "Hey Sammy, hey." Dean rubbed a hand across his brothers shoulder, trying in any way to comfort him. "That's why I'm here, and I'll be here for as long as you need me."

"Thank you." Sam whispered, he had lifted his head from his hands, a thankful smile across his face.

"Of course- so how have the kids been?"

"Ellie's been doing fine, I don't think she fully understands what happened but John- he's been struggling more, he won't talk to anyone."

"Losing a parent isn't- it's not something you just get over. He'll come around eventually, he just needs some time" Sam nodded, though it didn't seem to be in agreeance, in fact it didn't even seem like Sam had heard him. "What kind of things do you need help with." Dean asked, in an attempt to change the subject.

"The kids start school in a few weeks, so I just need you to look after them the days I work. You know, make sure they get dressed, eat, maybe do something with them."

"Don't let children die? done."

Sam gave a small laugh, looking down to his hands, "there's something else I have to talk to you about."

"Yah, of course." He looked up to Dean, his face had been taken over by a serious frown. It would have dropped Dean's stomach if it wasn't for the awful beard.

"You can't be high well you're here."

"I've neve-"

"I'm your brother, do you think I don't see the articles? The one night stands and missed meet and greets because you passed out in some alley?" Sam spat, his voice low enough that the kids wouldn't be able to hear from their bedroom. "You can't be doing that while you're here, I can't be finding you out of your mind in bars, or de- you have to be clean, and sober, the kids need you Dean. I need you. Do you understand?"

Dean nodded, "Yah of course."

"Dean, I need you to promise me."

He nodded again, this time much harsher. He hated the way Sam looked at him, with worry, panic and just a dash of disappointment. "I promise."


	3. Chapter two

His phone buzzed, and no matter how far he buried his head into the pillow it didn't seem to stop, continuing to play ramble on by Led Zepplin. Dean groaned forcing the pillow over his head and instead burying his face into the couch backrest. Then the music stopped, for barely a second before it began up again. "Fine!" Dean yelled, sitting up. He grabbed his phone, sliding accept to the call.

"Dean." He was greeted as he brought the phone to his ear. Dean immediately fell back into the couch, making the loudest groan possible. It was far too early to be awake, even more so if it meant talking to his manager. 

"Crowley." Dean replied, he lent his head back, closing his eyes in exhaustion. "What do you want?"

"Good to see you're as pleasant as alwa-"

"Yah yah, get to the point."

There was a sigh from the other end, "I was checking in on you, making sure you got to your brothers alright, and have been staying out of trouble."

If his eyes were opened, Dean would have rolled them. "Look, I know you love the whole 'be good talk'". Slowly Dean's eyes fluttered open, meeting the living room ceiling, "but Sam already beat you to it."

"I mean it, no drinking-"

"You've already told me."

"No drugs, no hookups."

"I get it! Sit, stay, be a good boy."

"Dean i'm serious,"

"And I told you, I get it."

"Make sure you don't forget about-

"I won't!" Despite Crowley's protests Dean hung up, letting the phone fall from his hand and onto the couch. "Fucking Crowley," Dean mumbled. He kept his head tilted back, studying the popcorn ceiling, as he hummed a slow beat. He drummed a finger against his thigh, trying to keep the melody going, it would've been easier if he'd had his guitar, but with that still in his car, his fingers would have to do.

Dean groaned as the beat he had been drumming became just beating into his thigh, no longer following a rhythm. Soon the rapid tapping stopped, and Dean grabbed his phone, standing up to begin the morning routine that Sam had given him the night before. And though it was a simple list consisting of making the kids breakfast and nothing more, Dean had never been great at being productive before three, or at least one shot.

"Really Sam," Dean mumbled, pulling out a box of Cascadian Farm. He opened the cereal box, peering into it for a second before he dug his hand in and tossed the cereal into his mouth. It lasted barely a second before Dean ran to the sink spitting out as much as he could. He ran his hand across his tongue, attempting to get the rest out. "Just how he always liked his food: utter crap." Dean said to himself, dropping the box into the garbage.

Dean turned away from the kitchen, and to the hallway, stopping in front of the open bedroom door. The room itself was larger than Sams, but much more crowded with single beds pushed on both sides and dresser at the end. On one bed John sat flipping through a book, while Ellie was sprawled across the other, crayons and half coloured pictures surrounding her. Both kids were spitting images of Sam with his dark brown hair, and lean build, the only clear feature from Jess being Ellie's light blue eyes.

"Hey," Dean greeted. He lent against the door frame, hands in his jean pockets, the same way he would when trying to persuade Crowley into letting him miss out on the next meeting he was being dragged to. Ellie looked up though John continued to flip through his book. "I was wondering how you guys would feel if we went out for breakfast? Obviously we could eat in but since it's our first morning together," and Sam's food was crap, "I thought we could make it fun!"

Neither of the kids spoke, instead they glanced to one another then back to their books.

"Alright get dressed, I'll meet you guys at the front door."

It took both kids half an hour to get dressed, followed by another fifteen minutes to get down to the parking lot and an hour for him and Ellie to agree on a small diner. By the time they'd sat down and received their menus the clock had struck 11:00 and Dean had become starving.

"So how're you two??" Dean asked, he looked over his menu glancing between the two kids. Neither of them had said anything the whole car ride minus Ellie to disagree with everyone option Dean suggested, and now they both had their heads covered by their menus seeming determined to ignore Dean. "How are you guys doing?" Dean repeated, raising his voice slightly.

"Good," Ellie replied monotone.

Dean nodded awkwardly glancing back down to his menu. "Your dad said you're starting school soon, are you guys excited?"

Ellie shook her head and John only glanced up.

"School was never my thing, your dad on the other hand loved it, he was such a nerd- still is."

Glancing between the once again silent kids, Dean sighed. Things weren't supposed to be this hard, he was usually good with kids, but there he was unable to carry a conversation with his own niece and nephew.

Dean didn't try to start another conversation after that. Instead he aimlessly flipped through the menu, hoping it didn't look like he was avoiding the kids.

"Are you all ready to order?" The waitress asked as she came up to their table, she pulled out a notebook and pen from her apron, glancing between Dean and the kids.

Dean nodded "uh yah, I'll get the classic egg benedicts, and a coffee.":

The waitress scribbling out his order, "and what about you two?"

"I want pencakes!" Ellie cried, which Dean rolled his eyes to. Of course now she could talk.

The waitress laughed, a wide grin spreading across her face, "Yah what would you like with them? Strawberries, Blueberries, or blackberries?"

"Strewberries!"

The waitress let out another laugh, nodding as she wrote it out before turning towards John, "and what will you behavin?" John raised the menu pointing at one of the pictures which the waitress nodded to, "same as your sister. And what berry would you like with it?"

John looked towards Dean, his brown eyes wide, looking up at Dean. If Dean had thought he resembled Sam from before, well now he could have been identical, a spitting image of when Sam was seven. The same puppy dog eyes that were somehow held more age than they should. "blackberries?" Dean asked, which the boy shook his head to, strawberries?" John nodded his head. "He'll have strawberries with it."

The waitress gave Dean a smile, "I'll get your food out as soon as possible."

The rest of the lunch was spent much the same as the beginning, Dean awkwardly attempting to make small talk while the kids only nodded. Continuing through the drive home and until they were back into the apartment.

"Did you guys have fun?"

Both kids walked past Dean, neither giving him even a glance. Dean only watched, his frown deepening as the bedroom door slammed close. "Yah," he mumbled. He leant against the kitchen counter leaning his head back in exhaustion, "I had fun too."

The kitchen fell in silence, only broken by Dean's shallow breath as he watched the ceiling. It was the same kind of silence that came late at night when Dean was alone in his house, regretting his most recent hookup, or to hangover to make it up his staircase. Instead the living room couch having to do. How could Sam handle it, the apartment's silence, the cold feeling as if Jess' ghost still wandered around.

His eyes fluttered shut, staying closed for barely a second before they snapped back open at the knock of the door. "Coming, I'm coming."

"Hey," Dean greeted, as he opened the door for the man behind it. He was good looking, that was the first thing Dean noticed, with messy black hair, and oddly perfect posture. In his hands he held a pie, that was the second thing Dean noticed, and where his eyes stayed. "What can I help you with."

"I was looking for Sam."

"Im his brother, Dean Winchester."

"Well I'm his neighbour, Castiel."


	4. Chapter three

Black hair, Stubble, rough looking" Dean said as he lent against the kitchen counter, watching his brother set the table. In the center the pie Castiel had brought that afternoon. "But hot," Sam didn't reply, seeming more interested in placing silverware next to each plate. "Extremely hot," he repeated to get Sam's attention.

"You're not allowed to sleep with my neighbors," Sam said. He looked up to the other pointing one of the spoons he held at Dean "Especially not Cas."

"I'm not looking for just some hookup, I'm looking for love." Dean paused, watching as Sam's expression didn't change, "fine you got me, I really want to fuck him." Finally Sam lowered the spoon. He threw the extra silverware into the drawer, before he began grabbing cups from the cabinet.

"The kids can hear you!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, I want to do certain things with him that if not for obvious reasons would result in a child. Better Sammy?"

"Well I hate to burst your dirty little sex bubble but he has a boyfriend."

"A BOYFRIE-"

"KIDS DINNERS READY."

Dean pushed himself from the counter, and took a seat at one of the kitchen chairs. "A boyfriend, of course he has a boyfriend," Dean said as he took a seat. He lent forward, beginning to scoop the spaghetti onto his plate, he would have had a beer with it though Sam had insisted they keep the apartment alcohol free for the first few months Dean was there. Something about keeping him sober. "Any chance of an open relationship? Maybe just one night?"

"How was your day Ellie." Sam asked his kids as they came in, ignoring Dean's questions.

Dean twirled his fork slowly through the spaghetti, before shoving a bite into his mouth. He continued the bored action as Ellie talked about getting dressed that morning, and how she brushed her teeth with her left hand instead of right.

"Dean!" He looked up suddenly, his fork in mouth. Dean nodded humming in response, "You took them out for breakfast?"

"Yah, there was nothing to cook so I thought it'd be fun to eat out."

"We had cereal," Dean grit his teeth, glancing towards the garbage can. "Did you have fun Ellie?" Sam asked, turning to his daughter.

The young girl nodded, mouth full of food. "Yup," she hummed, she pulled the fork from her mouth stabbing it back into her food. "I liked the pencakes," she explained. Dean smiled lightly, looking down to his plate. Like was enough for him, all he wanted was for the kids to like him and if pancakes were the start, then that was where their relationship starts. "And I got strewberries, and ice tea. I want to go back."

Sam smiled at his daughter, nodding his head, "we'll have to." 

The rest of dinner went much the same, Sam and Ellie talking about their days while Dean, and John kept their heads down, Dean occasionally sneaking glances at the young boy. Without his puppy dogs, he looked even older, wearing the same worn expression as Sam. One Dean had seen across his own face, since he was young.

"Hey Ellie?" Dean asked as dinner came to an end, everyone's plates, including the one that had the pie, empty, "do you know how to make paper airplanes?"

"No," she whispered.

"Do you want to learn how to?"

She glanced from Dean to Sam, her brown eyes wide. "Okay," she said, hesitantly.

Together they stood up from the table, Ellie slowly following behind as Dean grabbed paper from her craft cupboard, they went out to the apartment deck. Together they sat on the deck floor, paper spread around, Dean picked one up, beginning to fold it as Ellie watched. "And just like that," Dean folded the last corner of paper before lifting the plane up, "you have an airplane!"

He tossed it at Ellie, smiling, though she frowned. She watched it hurt her chest then drop to her lap, before she looked back up at Dean

"Do you want to try making one?"

She shook her head, "I doh like earplanes."

"Oh," Dean glanced at the paper that surrounded them, "well what do you want to make?"

"I want to colour," she insisted, which Dean nodded awkwardly to. "Okay."

He began restacking the papers, as Ellie stood to go back inside. "Oh wait," Dean cried, causing Ellie to quickly stop in her tracks, he pulled his phone, using his thumb to unlock it. "Do you like dogs?"

"yes?"

'"Look, Look.'' Dean frantically typed, clicking the first dog origami video he could find. "Do you want to try making one?"

Slowly she nodded. "Yah," She replied, the smallest smile across her face.


	5. Chapter four

Trigger warning:   
Drug use

Dean didn't feel guilty, not as he pulled up to a high end club, or when he ordered a vodka martini. Or a second. Or third. Or forth. He should've felt something when he followed the dealer, out of the busy cluster of people and into the bathroom, willing to break his promise to Sam after only five days. It had been six days since he'd had his last dose, the longest he'd ever been without, and that was all he could care about. The cravings, the desperation, the willingness to do anything for even one line.

It was all he could think about as the dealer shifted through his pockets. Not Sam, or the kids he was supposed to watch in the morning, just the high, the confidence, and energy. Nothing else mattered.

"Is this all you have?" Dean spat, he lifted the small bag the dealer had just handed him, shaking it in exaggeration. " Do I look like some bitch." Dean stepped forward, at same time the man stepped back, left hand raised, while his right moved to his jacket pocket. He looked up at Dean with a knowing look, though Dean didn't budge. He wouldn't be shot, at least not in the bathroom where everyone could see.

"I swear man, that's all that's left. I've sold out!."

Dean tightened his hand into a fist, crushing the small bag. He could practically feel the syringe in his hand, the plastic against his thumb, the cold needle pressed to his forearm. He could feel the high like an itch that wouldn't go away. The desperate need for it, the restless feeling that took over, mixed in with the ache, and the thought that maybe, just maybe if he were to kill himself the feeling would go away. "Fine," He slowly loosened his grip, taking a deep breath. Maybe it wasn't cocaine but he needed something, some kind of distraction from the craving. "What else do you have."

The man shifted, letting his hand drop from his pocket. "I don't know, wha'da yah like? I got some Skag, Molly, Lucy."

"I'll take it all but the Molly."

The man nodded, while Dean pulled out his wallet, the dealer pulled out the small bags from his inside pocket. "How much do you want?"

"I'll take a bag of the skag, and two doses of acid."

Dean passed over the money, then took the small bags stuffing them into his own pocket. Without another glance Dean turned on his heel, walking as fast as he could to get out of the bathroom, and back into the crowded club. People surrounded him, the music blaring as he pushed through the crowd, desperate to get to the bar, a task that would've been much easier if it wasn't for the vodka martinis he'd downed when he first arrived.

When Dean finally got his order he went back to pushing his way back through the crowd, until he found an empty booth, where he shut the curtains, and collapsed into the seat. He then placed the glass of water onto the table, followed by the bag of cocaine and a tin container.

Through the ringing of his ears he could hear the music blaring, only broken by the occasional voice that was a little too close for comfort.

With one more glance to the blue velvet curtain Dean opened the bag and poured the powder into the cup. "Come on," he mumbled, as he began stirring the water with a stare. "Come on, come on," his mumbles soon became quite begs for the powder to dissolve.

When the cocaine was no longer visible, Dean placed down the cup, and pulled up his left sleeve, until his forearm was visible. Each action came without a thought, opening the tin container, pulling out the needle, an action repeated so many times he could do it in his sleep. Then slowly pouring the liquid into the needle. He held his breath for a second, staring at it, the syringe in his hand, the hazy liquid inside it, before placing it down and grabbing the elastic band.

Through the ache of his body, he could just feel his phones vibrations

Dean tied the elastic band around his upper arm, pressing his thumb across his skin till he could find a vein that would work. He then brought the syringe to his forearm, a shallow breath parting his lips as the tip of the needle just touched his skin. Another breath came, then without a second thought, of his empty promises, he pressed the needle into his arm.

~~

Dean didn't move, his hands folded in his lap, legs dangling off the deck. He couldn't exactly remember how he got back home, only that after the cocaine had worn, he had placed both acid tablets onto his tongue. Everything after that had become almost a dream. Wondering the streets for what seemed like days, starting at various lights as if it was for the first time, and even now the hazy feeling stuck. He still felt muffled, the cold air burning against his skin in the best way possible. Everything feeling so much brighter, so much more alive.

It was no cocaine but it was enough of a distraction.

He shoved his hand into his pocket, digging around until he felt the plastic bag. Slowly he pulled the small bag out, lifting it up so he could see the white powder of heroin inside, something he had promised himself he would never try. It was a street drug, cheaper, dirty, something only drug addicts -which Dean was not- did, but then again he had originally planned to never try acid either.

His grip tightened around it. He held his arm over the ledge, watching the bag swing slowly back and forth. He could drop it if he wanted. At least that's what he told himself, over and over. He could drop it. He let his arm stay out for another second, amazed at the way the powder sat in it, before he pulled his arm back in. He stood up, his legs shaking for a second as he used the railing for balance.

He must've been sitting for hours, the sky now a light shade of blue. Had he watched the sun rise from the deck, he could've sworn he had, but maybe he had been staggering around the park. Slowly he pushed himself from the railing, shuffling to the deck and door, and stepping inside the apartment.

"Hello Dean."

"Fuck !" Dean screamed, both his hands flying into his pockets. He swore his heart stopped, then jumped to his throat, where it stayed as he stared in horror at Castiel who stood in Sam's kitchen. "What are you doing here?"

"Sam asked me to come watch the children," Castiel said. Dean nodded along, attempting to focus on the man in front of him instead of Sam's house plant that seemed to slowly grow and shrink. "Did Sam not tell you?"

The conversation stopped as Dean only stared at the plant, his hands still stuffed in his pockets, a numb feeling growing across them. "Dean?"

"Oh-" he looked away quickly, forcing a smile across his face. A smile that he hoped was reassuring. "Yah?

"Is everything alright?"

"Uh- uh yah, so Sam called you?"

Castiel didn't reply, instead tilting his head slightly to the right. His eyes were piercing as he studied Dean, Dean awkwardly rocking on his heels as it happened. He glanced back and forth from Castiel, to the plant, to his shoes unsure where to exactly look. "Yes," Castiel finally replied "he was unsure where you were- Dean are you sure you're alright, you look quite ill."

"Really I'm fine," Dean lied. The trip was wearing out and with it his body began to ache, becoming so exhausted his legs felt as if they'd give out any second. It was a feeling of absolute disgust, the side effects of the cocaine also coming into play. Dean was sure he'd only be able to last the feeling for so much longer before he threw himself off the deck.

"If you insist" Dean nodded, he pulled his one hand out of his pocket though kept the other one in, tightly gripped around the bag. He could feel the plastic, the way the powder moved as he pressed his fingers down, and for a second he wondered if Castiel would care if he were to leave. Snort the heroin, because that would be faster than injecting, and hopefully overdose. He gripped his hand, tighter, forcing himself to walk forward, despite the light headed feeling.

"I was making the kids each a sandwich, would you like one?"

He nodded again, unsure if he knew how to speak. Had he ever learned how to, Dean couldn't remember. "Um-" Dean fell into one of the chairs where he attempted to straighten himself out. He ran a hand through his hair, then let it slowly fall to his jacket, which he pulled off attempting to hang it on the chair next to him, though instead it fell to the ground.

The whole room seemed to buzz as Dean sat there. The lights blaring, the distant hum of traffic seeming to scream against the wall, it was the same energy as the club. An endless chaos, that blurred Dean's thoughts, not letting him sleep, no matter how much he wanted to simply pass out.

Or die. Anything that would stop the spinning.

"Dean?"

"Dean?"

He didn't remember the glass of water being placed in front of him, or picking it up, only that suddenly the glass was pressed against his lips, and that water tasted better then usual. "Dean?" He closed his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath. He needed his own space, or the drugs to wear off. How long did acid take, seven, maybe twelve hours, he'd watched Lee take it, Dean had passed out before the high had even peaked.

"Dean!"

His head shot up, eyes unfocused for a second before Castiel, who leaned in front of him, became clear. "Yes?"

"Should I call Sam?"

"No! No! Really Cas I'm fine, I was just up late writing music."

Castiel tilted his head, frowning. It was cute. "Cas?"

"Oh-uh yah? Is that alright?"

"Yes, that's fine."

Dean smiled. He met eyes with Castiel, for the first time since he could remember actually focusing on the other man. Whether it was the drugs, or maybe the lighting, Dean wasn't sure, all he knew was Castiel somehow looked even better than the first time he had met him. His hair dark black, light shining across it in just the right spots. His eyes wider than normal, as he looked at Dean in concern, and blue, so incredibly blue. A bright blue that Dean could study forever.

Castiel suddenly looked to the ground. "I should probably check on Jack."

"Is that your boyfriend?"

Castiel's smile suddenly widened, his eyes shining. He looked happy, his smile wider than Dean had ever seen. "No, my son." God, Dean wanted that smile to stay forever.

"Tell me about him."


	6. Chapter five

"I just don't understand why we invited them over, I was enjoying our family dinners. With our family. Just the four of us. And no one else."

"I told you, I want to repay Castiel for watching the kids yesterday." Sam has asked where Dean was that morning, over and over, though Dean had only shook his head, repeating a lie that even he couldn't believe. Despite that Sam eventually gave up, instead letting Dean stick to his awful lie. "he'd done that enough last month, and it was unfair to him how last minute it was." Sam pulled out some glasses, before he shut the cabinet, "now would you please open the door for them," Sam paused as Dean moved to the door, hand on the knob, "and be nice!"

Dean rolled his eyes, but pulled the door open without another complaint.

"Hey," he greeted stepping back to allow the others in. Castiel stepped in first, a small smile on his face as he greeted the brothers. Jack was held at his hip, the three year old's face buried into Cas's shoulder, his blond hair in a complete mess. After Cas had stepped through, his boyfriend followed.

"Dean Winchester," Dean greeted, closing the door. He raised his hand for a handshake, which the other man took.

"Logan, It's nice to meet you."

"Yah very nice." Dean didn't try to hide the sarcasm as he gave the other man a smile, before pulling his hand away. Logan was nice looking, Dean would admit that much, with short almost buzzed cut hair, that grew into his stubble across his lower face and upper lip. He had cupid bow lips that sat in a tight line as his smile fell. He looked like the stereotypical businessman, handsome but in a snarky way, as if he was- and knew he was- better than everyone else.

He walked past Dean and to Sam, immediately falling into an easy conversation with the younger Winchester. "It's nice to see you" Sam greeted, which Dean rolled his eyes at, leave it to his brother to be the nice one. After one more annoyed glare Dean walked to the table taking a seat across from Castiel who was busy trying to keep Jack seated while talking to Ellie who had taken a seat at the end of the table to be next to him.

"El maybe you should give Cas some space." Dean said, which the young girl turned her head to giving Dean an emotionless stare before turning back to Cas.

"Can I talk to you?"

Cas gave her a small smile, while one arm stayed firmly on Jack's chest, the child squirming in an attempt to get off his chair. "Of course."

"Weeeeell," Ellie began dramatically, she turned her body from Dean, completely cutting him from the conversation. "Today I drawed a super hard pictoor of a butterfly, because I'm practising for school, because school is going to be super hard." She raised her arms in exaggeration, "I go to school soon! Kindagarten!"

"Really?" Cas asked.

Before Ellie could say more, Sam cut in, placing a bowl of salad onto the table, followed by a lasagna. "Dinners ready," he declared. He took a seat at the other end of the table, while Logan sat on the other side of Jack, and John took the last seat next to Dean.

"Your dads become a pretty good cook," Dean said to John as everyone began collecting their food. He glanced down at the young boy hoping for a response, though he only got a small nod in agreeance. It had been a week since Dean had arrived and he hadn't gotten more than a nod from the kid, not even the smallest smile.

"So Dean," He looked up at the sound of his name, towards Logan, who was filling Jack's place with food, "You're a singer right?" Dean gave the smallest nod. Anyone who knew him for his singing, was bound to know of reputation too. He could only hope Logan wouldn't say anythign

in front of the kids, or more importantly Cas. "I've heard you on the radio, you're really good.

"Thanks man."

Dean glanced towards Cas before looking back to Logan. He had perfect posture, though unlike Cas, it was done in confidence not out of awkwardness, suiting his whole corporate aesthetic. "Cas told me you work in business?

"Yes for Citibank."

"That must be shit."

"No, I actually quite enjoy my job, it pays very well," Logan began explaining, giving the smallest emphasis on very. "I also get to travel tons, and I work with a great group of men, my only complaint is that I miss out on him," Logan said rougheling Jack's hair.

The moment Logan moved his hand back to his side Jack looked up, "I don't want it!" He cried.

"What don't you want?"

"My food!"

A small smile spread across Dean's face as he watched Jack poke his fork into the lasagna. He looked away from Jack and to Castiel, who too had a smile across his face as he watched his son. The wide smile that lit up his whole face, the smile that only came for Jack.

"I wants yours!" Jack cried looking up at Logan.

Logan sighed but did as Jack asked, switching their plates. "No no!" Jack turned to Cas pulling at his trench coat sleeve "Daddy I wants yours!"

Cas switched his and Jack's plate without question. "Now could you please eat, Bee?" Jack nodded in response, already shoving a mix of salad and lasagna into his mouth.

Dean laughed as he watched Jack continue to eat. He looked down at his own untouched play, his fork stabbed into his food yet not even in his hand. He couldn't bring himself to eat, only able to feel the withdrawal, his heart racing, though that's all it ever seemed to do whether he was high or not.

"Dean, is everything alright?" He looked up to Castiel who had spoken. Through the light and the pounding in his ears he could hear Ellies humming to herself, and the distant voices as Sam and Logan talked to one another.

He nodded weakly, giving Cas a smile, "Yah, i'm great."

Cas nodded. "Why didn't you tell me you were a singer?"

"I don't know, kinda assumed you knew." Dean said. He picked up his fork, lifting it barely an inch before he dropped it again. "And don't go acting all innocent, you never told me what you do."

"I was an ecologist."

"Was?" Dean questioned, "why'd you stop?"

Cas looked down to Jack, smiling at his son. He ran a hand across Jack's hair attempting to fix the strands that Logan had messed up, which Dean found funny considering how messy Castiel's own hair was. "Logan makes enough for both of us, so when we adopted Jack it made sense that I quit to look after him," Cas explained. He turned to Dean after giving up on fixing Jack's hair. His blue eyes were shining, bright against his tan skin. They were beautiful, and if given the chance Dean swore he could gaze at them forever, study every shade of blue that clashed against the other, until he could decide the exact shade.

"What did you study?" Dean asked. He didn't want the conversation to end, Castiel's voice addictive to the ear. He wanted to know everything he could about the other man.

Cas smiled at Dean, his eyes never leaving the others, "I studied a variety of things, a few years ago I had gone to Antarctica to study penguins."

"That's so cool! Penguins are fucking awesome"

Cas gave a small laughl. Final breaking eye contact to glance down at his own untouched plate, "I suppose they are pretty awesome."

"Not just pretty, they're fucking!"

"Dean!"

Dean's head turned to meet his brother's disapproving gaze. "Sorry Sammy," Dean replied, with a half hearted apology. He turned back to Cas with a dramatic role of his eye, "He doesn't like when I swear around kids. I think we should be open to the expanding their vocabulary

Cas shook his head in disbelief though the smallest smile still played at his lips.

Logan and Sam continued to talk as Dean and Cas's conversation died out. Instead Dean began to poke around at his plate, he at least needed to eat a bit or Sam would begin questioning him, something he didn't need to deal with.

Dean had managed to stuff half the food down his throat by the time Logan stood up from the table, "I should probably get going, I've got work early in the morning."

"Robbing the poor?" Dean asked. From the corner of his eyes he could see Sam frowning, the look of 'please shut up' clear across his face.

"No, volunteering at a children's hospital."

"Oh," Dean nodded awkwardly, glancing down to his plate.

He didn't speak again, instead poking his fork at his food. Logan had stood up pulling his blazer back on as he said his goodbyes, and thank yous to Sam, at first insisting he clean up his plate, but Sam had refused. Make the asshole do some work was all Dean could think, though this time he kept his mouth shut.

"It was nice meeting you Dean," he didn't reply, only giving the man a quick nod in agreeance. "Castiel are you coming?"

Cas looked towards Logan for barely a second before turning back to Dean. He didn't speak, instead only staring, not that Dean minded. "Yes, of course." He gave Dean one last smile before he too stood, helping Jack from his seat. "Thank you so much Sam, it was a lovely dinner."

"Yah we'll definitely have to do it again."

When both Logan and Cas had left, and the front door had been closed Dean turned to his brother. "That guy," Dean began, "is a fucking douchebag."


	7. Chapter six

“Dean could you please just take it out!” 

“Why don’t you just do it yourself.”

“Because I haven't spent all day on the couch talking to my instagram followers!”

“It’s my f*cking job!” 

Sam groaned from the kitchen, turning away from Dean who was spread out across the couch, still in his pajamas, under the single blanket Sam had given him to sleep with. “I asked you to do one thing when I'm on my days off, could you please not be useless and do it.”

“I could but I've been caring for your kids for two weeks and I just need a day to process.”

“Dean-”

“Im processing!” Dean yelled. He only glanced up from his phone for a second before he went back to scrolling through the photos that were hashtagged under Lee’s name, looking for a disturbing edit, or photo he could send to his friend.

“What’re you processing? Actually working for the first time in years?”

“I work! It’s-” 

Before Dean could defend himself, he was cut off from a knock at the door, though Dean didn’t even look up, letting his brother open it instead. “I swear Dean, if that’s some maid you hired.”

“Sydney is a lovely woman!”

“Cas?’

Dean’s head immediately looked up so he could see his friend though from Sam’s height, and the door being only half open, he couldn’t see the other. Sam’s voice had also dropped making it impossible for Dean to hear the conversation. “Is everything okay?” Dean called, though no reply came.

Dean stood up, letting the blanket fall from his body and to the ground. He walked across the room, and pushed his way through his brother, who took up most of the doorway. fucking giant. “Shit Cas.” Dean cried once he finally got a look at his friend. He raised his hand to touch the others face though he quickly lowered it. Across the right half of Castiel’s face blood dripped from just above his eyebrow covering most of his right cheek and eyelid. His right arm was brought to his chest, while his left was wrapped tightly around Jack, who was sat against his hip. Jack’s face was buried into Cas’s shoulder, his sobs loud. “What the fuck happened?”

Cas looked from Sam to Dean, his blue eyes were wide, usual tanned skin having become an ashen white. “I am fine, I just need a ride to the hospital.”

“Cas are you sure?” Sam asked.

“Yes, I’m sure.” 

“Where’s Logan?”

Cas hesitated for a second glancing from Sam to Dean, “at work.”

Dean didn’t talk as his brother continued to shower Cas in various questions, can you feel your arm, can you move your fingers, instead only being able to stare. He looked so sick. His face thin, not bruising yet but surely it would soon. 

“I’ll grab my keys,” Sam finally said. He turned away from the door, going to grab his keys before Dean stopped him.

“I’ll take him! Dean offered which Sam raised an eyebrow to, seeming unsure. “Sam you're off three days a week, one which is spent in counselling, I've been here for two qeeks and the kids still don't like me. They don’t want me here! They want you, so you go have fun with them and i’ll take Cas to the hospital.”

“They like you, they just- don’t know you well.”

“They fucking hate me. Just stare here with them.”

Sam hesitated for a second before he nodded, “Fine”

“Besides, “ Dean said. He grabbed his leather jacket, pulling it over his pajama shirt, and shoving his keys and phone into the pocket. His other hand checked the left pocket, a sigh of relief passing his lips as he was thankful to have moved the heroin to his duffle bags. “You have garbage to take out.” 

“Fuck you”

Dean laughed as he once again pushed his way through his brother to get into the hallway. “Come on Cas, oh! and have fun Sammy.” Dean yelled over his shoulder. 

The walk to the car was silent. The drive much the same only broken by Cas’s soft whisper, in an attempt to calm his sobbing son who eventually fell asleep. By the time they got to the hospital, Jack was spread across Cas’s chest, face tilted just enough that his soft snores could be heard.

“Do you want me to carry him?” Dean offered once he had turned off the car.

Cas shook his head. His grip visibly tightening around Jack, somehow bringing his son even closer. “I am fine,” he insisted. Castiel turned to open the door though as he lifted his right arm his face scrunched.

“At least let me help you get out”

Cas looked down to Jack, running his thumb across the boy's arm. “Fine, “ he whispered.

Dean got out of the car, walking around to the other side to open the other’s door, he then lent in to help Cas get his seatbelt off. “You sure you don’t need help?” Dean asked as he watched his friend struggle to get out of the car. Castiel somehow shifted Jack from his chest to his hip, while keeping this right arm from touching anything. He grit his teeth as he began getting out of the car.

“I said I was fine,” Cas insisted through a shaken breath. 

Once Castiel got out of the car, they walked across the parking lot and into the hospital lobby where Cas went to the receptionist while Dean took a seat in one of the many chairs, as far away from other people as he could. He stretched out across the uncomfortable chair, pulling his jacket further across his chest. It was only an old led zeppelin shirt though Dean suddenly relaized just how dumb he looked in blue checkered pants, as a few people give him odd looks, and one wide eyed look from a girl that couldn’t seem to stop staring. 

He gave the girl one last glance before pulling out his phone in an attempt to seem busy. Talking to people was the last thing he wanted to do on a sunday night though as he could still feel her stares he was sure he wasn't going to get his wish.

“They said they’ll get me in as soon as possible,” Dean looked up from his phone and to Castiel who was stood in front of him. The blood had long dried to his face, keeping a few strands of his dark hair stuck to his forehead. Across his lower face bruises had begun to form a mix of light reds and purples that would only get darker. 

Cas took a seat in the chair next to Dean, using his left arm to brush Jack’s hair from his face. “Your arm alright?”

Cas nodded, though he didn’t look up instead continuing to look down at Jack, “It’s just bruised.”

Dean lent forward a bit to see Cas’s other arm, though it was covered by his button up’s sleeve. “As bruised up as the rest of you?” Cas looked up at Dean giving him the smallest smile, “seriously dude it looks like you stepped off the set of the 300.”

Cas’s smile dropped to a frown, his eyebrows furrowing as he tilted his head slightly to the right. “I don’t understand”

“It’s a movie, you know? Lots of Romans die, lots of blood, it was slow, but not all movies can be classics.”

“Oh,” Cas nodded slightly, “I suppose you’re right then.”

“How’d it happen?” Dean asked. His own smile dropped when the other didn't reply, instead his blue eyes going from Dean’s face to just over his shoulder. “What’re you looking at?” Dean barely mumbled the question. He turned around his own gaze landing on the girl who had been staring from before, she now stood an awkward length away, hands gripped tightly around a notebook and pen. 

“Are you-” She began, her voice raised, as she looked from her feet to Dean’s face, to Castiel, then back to her feet. She must’ve been in her late teens or early twenties, with long blonde hair that had bright blue tips, and pale skin making her eyeliner pop. “Are you Dean Winchester?”

“I am, and your name is?”

“Kaitlyn.”

“Well Kaitlyn, how are you doin’?”

“I’m really- I’m good, really good.” She lifted her arms offering Dean her notebook, “could you maybe- if you don’t mind.”

“Yah, of course.” Dean took the pen and notebook from her hand, quickly scribbeling a few sentences across the page that he had long ago memorized, followed by his own signature. “I saw you a few months ago on tour,” she said quickly. She looked at Dean with wide eyes, her bottom lip bit between her teeth when she finished talking.

“Really?” 

She nodded her head in response “It was my first concert” She trailed off for second, glancing to Dean's hand as he passed her back the notebook and sharpie, “Is it true that you got arrested?”

Dean’s mouth gaped open, his heart seemed to skip a beat as she asked the question. He waited for her to correct herself, or some kind of indication that he’d imagined the whole thing, maybe the withdrawal was getting bad.

“Excuse me?” 

“Buzzfeed said it was for drugs.”

“Well you can’t believe everything you read, especially on Buzzfeed for fucks sake” Dean said. despite the clenching of his fists, and the way he grit his teeth, he managed to keep his voice steady, continuing with his usual laid back tone. “They're a team of monkeys.”

The girl stoned to stare at Dean, as if shocked that he’d defend himself, instead of openly talking about his arrest. “I’m sor- i’m sorry.”

“It was nice meeting you.” Dean replied not even attempting to give a smile. Once the girl had turned away he collapsed back into the chair, Catsiel watching him . 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yah,” Dean mumbled. He lent his head back, covering his face with his hands. He was too exhausted to deal with being awake, too worn, too sober. It had been almost three days since his last dose, and the cravings had become almost impossible to ignore, the ache in his body only making things worse. 

They waited there for another five minutes before a nurse came calling for Castiel to come. “Dean?” Cas asked after standing up, Dean slowly lowered his hands in response, so he could see the other man. “Are you coming?”

“Do you want me to?”

Cas’s eyes stayed rested on Dean, his features seeming to soften for a second, “if that is okay with you?”

Dean nodded quickly, “yah of course.” Dean gave a smile hoping to reassure the other, though Cas continued to look at Dean with uncertainty, “really it’s fine.”

They walked to the end of the lobby and then through a pair of doors, following the nurse down the hallway then into a small check up room. Cas took a seat on the bed while Dean took a seat on the chair, one with the same ugly grey pattern as the waiting room, the kind that only a hospital would consider good enough. 

The nurse, a blonde middle aged woman, followed them in, flipping through the clipboard paper. “So you must be Castiel,” She hummed in a thick midwestern accent. She stuck her hand out for Cas to shake though he, with one arm holding Jack and the other brought to his chest, only stared at it. “Right! broken arm.” 

“Well,” she began. She pulled a rolling stool in front of Cas to sit down, “my names Donna, and i’m going to be your doctor for the next few minutes.” Cas nodded slowly, though as Donna looked back down to her clipboard he glanced quickly towards Dean. 

“Now lets begin with the basics, what happened to get cha so beat up?”

“I fell down the staircase,” Cas mumbled. A smile spread across Deans own face, he watched Cas’s gaze drop to his feet. 

“It’s alright Dear, we’ll get you cleaned right up, and on your way to the x-ray department.” Donna grabbed a few things from the counter then she moved back to Castiel where she poured some alcohol onto a cotton swab before beginning to clean around Castiel’s cut and then the blood that covered his skin. “Your lucky! It looks like you won’t be needing stitches,” Donna explained in her overly chirpy voice. 

Once Cas was looking fairly okay, she brought a heart monitor over, attaching the one end to Cas’s finger, while she wrapped the band around his upper arm.

The machine beeped a few times, filling the silent roomroom, as Donna watched it. “Do you know that’cha heart rate’s low?”

Cas nodded “my doctor said it is fine.”

Donna nodded, scribbling something across her clipboard. “Are you sure?”

“Yes”

Donna nodded again, before grabbing a metal stick that she swiped across Cas’s forehead.   
“Alrigthy, I think it’s time to get'cha to your x-ray.” Donnas said, “your son and friend can wait here.”

Cas’s head immediately shot up, his blue eyes wide. He glanced between Donna and Dean before finally resting on Jack. “He needs to come with me.”

“I'm sorry hun but we can’t have him in the x-ray room, little guy cant be around that kind of radiation.”

“My arm is fine then.”

“Cas,” Dean finally cut in. He couldn’t listen to the pointless argument any longer, or let Cas walk around with a broken arm just because of Jack, “I can look after him, it’ll be fine.”

Cas looked back up from Jack to Dean, holding eye contact for longer than anyone Dean had ever seen, his blue eyes piercing. Finally Cas gave the smallest nod, he stood back up carrying his son to Dean and then placing him on Dean’s lap.

“I'll be right back, take care of him.”

“Yah of course.”

Cas didn’t move not seeming to be able to as he stood in front of Dean. “Come on hun,” Donna called, which finally got Cas to walk slowly away from Jack, backwards so he could see him for as long as possible. 

“Please take care of him.”

Dean glanced down at the child in his arms, before glancing back to his friend. He looked terrified, his blue eyes wide, his pale skin not helping as it still hasn't regained it’s usual colour. He looked so scared Dean almost gave him Jack, willing to fight the nurse if it meant Cas could bring his son with him. Instead Dean gave a small nod, of course.


	8. Chapter seven

The first few minutes that Cas was gone were fine, Jack slept soundly in Dean’s arms while he sat in the seat, watching the child in peace. He wasn’t Cas’s biological son, at least as far as Dean was aware, but the child had similar features, a sharp nose, the similar shape in lips, and was incredibly cute. The last one may have been Dean’s personal opinion.

It was all going well, until Dean shifted a little too fast and the child's blue eyes fluttered open. 

Tears immediately filled Jack's eyes as he looked up at Dean, his lips parting as he let out a sob. Jack pushed his arms against Dean's chest in an attempt to get away. “Hey, Hey Jack, it’s okay.” Dean whispered, in hopes of soothing the child back to sleep, or atleast to stop crying. “You’re Dads going to be back soon, I promise.”

“No!” Jack sobbed. 

“Come on!” Dean begged as the child continued to scream against his chest. Thrashing and sobbing, despite his voice becoming scratchy. “It’s going to be okay.”

Dean shifted the child off his lap, placing Jack so he sat alone on the chair while Dean crouched in front. “Hey look,” Dean stuck his tongue out at the child, though it did nothing, as Jack continued to sob. “Come on Jack,” he attempted to make another face once again with no luck, “work with me here.”

“Hey look, Jack look at this…” Dean frantically looked around the small office before his eyes landed on a stethoscope that was resting on the counter. “Look at this stethoscope!” Dean declared. He grabbed the object, showing it off to Jack for a second, before placing each ear tip into his ear, and then bringing the end to Jack’s chest.

The child paused his sobbing for a second, looking up at Dean in curiosity. His cheeks were still a bright red and his eyes hazy with tears, but he’d become silent, and Dean considered that a win. 

Dean slowly moved the piece from the left side of Jack's chest to the right. “What's that noise?” Dean questioned in a dramatic high pitched voice. “Hmm,” He moved the pieces from his ears, placing them around his neck and letting the chest piece fall from his hand and instead hang at from his neck. “Something’s goin’ on riiiiight-” Dean lifted his hand, tapping a finger against Jack’s chest. “Here.”

The child looked down to Dean’s hand. “Do you want to hear?”

“Yah,” Jack barely whispered.

Dean took the stethoscope from his neck, and placed it around Jack’s, helping the child place the earpieces properly into his ears. Dean then lifted the chest piece pressing it to Jack’s heart. “Do you hear it?”

“Yah.” Jack raised one of his small hands, using it to push away Dean’s own hand, and grab the end piece of the stethoscope. He raised the piece up, pressing it against Dean’s chest with a small smile. He giggled as he kept the piece pressed to Dean’s chest, a small smile spreading across Dean’s own lips. 

Dean watched the child listen to his heart, until the sound of the door opening came, his head quickly turning to meet Cas who had just stepped in. He looked better with the blood washed off his face, almost normal if it wasn’t for the bruising that covered his jaw, and the way he still held his right arm to his chest. 

“Hey Bee,” Cas greeted smiling as his son pushed passed Dean and ran to his dad. Cas’s smile was wide, not like his usual small one, it was the kind that lit up his whole face, scrunched his nose, and crinkled his eyes.

Jack wrapped his arms around Cas’s legs squeezing them tightly, while Cas attempted to keep his balance. “Thank you for watching him,” Castiel said, finally looking up from Jack and towards Dean. His smile had faltered though the corners of his lips still were raised slightly. 

“No problem.” Dean stood back up and took a seat back onto the chair while Cas took a seat on the bed, leaving Jack to sit on the floor and play with the stethoscope. “So it’s definitely broken?” Dean asked, which Cas nodded to in reply, “Shit, that sucks.”

“Yes. The casting nurse should be here soon to cast it.”

“Can I write loser across it when they’re done”?”

Cas tilted his head to the side, his nose scrunching slightly the same way when he smiled. “Why would you do that?”

“Have you not seen It?”

“No?”

“Not the 2017 one or 90’s,” Caas shook his head in response, “You have to! They’re both shit but it’s just something everyone has to see.”

“Well I haven't”

“So no 300, no It, have you seen Jaws?” another shake of his head, “Ghostbusters? Gremlins? Star Trek? Hell even Star Wars?” With each movie Dean suggested Cas shook his head, Cas’s list of unwatched movies only growing as Dean suggested every classic he could think of, even adding a few of the better recent movies. “So,” Dean began when he had given up in finding anything the other had watched. “You just don’t watch movies.”

“I don’t see the point in them.”

“You would learn the point of movies if you’d seen Pitch Perfect.”

The smallest smile formed across Castiel’s face as he looked away from his son, who had the end of the stethoscope pressed to the ground and over to Dean, “You watched pitch perfect?” Cas asked, the slightest mocking tone in his voice.

“Of course, you haven’t?” Cas shook his head. “Well you’re missing out. Movies are what keep our society from crumbling into a civil war!” 

“I doubt movies are that important.”

“Movies,” Dean explained, emphasizing the word, “are a gift from fucking god, laced with a usualy kick ass sound track, and chemical covered popcorn.”

Cas shook his head this time in disbelief, though the smile still sat on his face. The smile suited him, far more than his usual scowl, even just the small one. It lit up his face, bringing a light to his eyes, and a relaxation to his usual stiff posture. “Now,” Dean began, “if you don’t want America to fall back into a civil war i’m thinking you should start by watching Back to the Future. There’s a few fucked up plot points but it’s a decent movie if you just ignore those.”

“Then it's a date.”

“What.” Dean stuttered out, his mind blanking at Castiel's declaration. A date. Part of him knew it wasn't an actual date, but he the smallest, most hopefully part of him couldn't forget the wording. Him and Castiel, sat on the couch, popcorn in between them, lights dimmed. Like in every single cheesy as fuck movie their hands would brush, and then they would lean in, closer, and closer, till their lips touched. Dean’s eyes wandered from Castiel’s to his lips, wondering what it would be like. They could do it there, they didn’t have to wait till the movie.

Dean licked his lips, his eyes dropping to his lap at the sudden realization of his own thoughts. God he hoped Cas couldn’t see the blush that heated his neck, beginning to creep across his cheeks. 

“Dean?”

He looked back up at the other, his lip sat parted. “Your phone?”

“My what-” Dean frowned, half his thoughts still on Castiel’s lips while his hand trailed to his coat pocket, where the sudden buzzing of his phone could be felt. The moment the screen lit up, a photo of him and Crolwey at burger king appeared, and across the bottom the option to accept the call. “Fuck” Dean cried, staring wide eyed at the screen, “I’m so sorry Cas, I have to take this.” He didn’t wait for a response as he accepted the call, bringing his phone to his ear and walking out of the office, leaving the door open behind him.

“What do you want?” Dean asked once he could hear Crowley's breath on the other end. He walked a few doors away from Cas’s, where he leant against the wall with his back turned to the door.

For a second only breathing could be heard before Crowlyes screaming began, “I want to know where in bloody hell you are! You are now officially,” there was a pause on the other side, “Seven minutes late.”

“To what?” 

“Jimmy Fallon, remember?

Dean’s mouth immediately dropped open. “That was tonight?” Dean said slowly, trying to keep the panic out of his voice, and not yell in the silent hall, “Why didn’t you fucking remind me? He spat.

“Oh I did, if i remember correctly you replied with an ‘I know’ before hanging up on me.”

“Fuck, my friend needed a ride to the hospital, and then someone to watch his kid, it must’ve just slipped my mind.” Dean explained, hoping that would be enough to calm Crowley’s anger and the guilt that tugged at his stomach, and it was. How could it have been his fault, it wasn’t his job to remember his schedule, it was Crowleys, and how could he have said no to driving Castiel. None of this could have been his fault, and the more Dean told himself that, the more he believed it. “I’m on my way now, I can get there in maybe half an hour.”

“I wouldn’t bother, they were able to find someone else to cover for you.”

“Fuck!” Dean lent his head back, banging it slightly against the hospital wall. It felt good, a small distraction from his racing heart. “I wasn’t high this time!”

“Save it for the record company.” Crowley snapped, “I’m going to call them in a few hours and we’ll see what they want done. Until then just don’t fucking do anything, I mean it! Breath, blink, stand, I want you alone in a bubble wrapped room.”

“You’re sending me to a nut house now?”

“You’ll be bloody lucky if that's the worst thing that happens to you.”

“Are you done yelling at me?”

“For now, there might be more when I hear back from the record company.”

“I’ll be happily waiting.”

The other line went dead, and Dean groaned, leaving his head tilted back for a second before he found the strength to push himself from the wall and walk back to Cas’s room. When he got close to the door, the sound of voice became clear, Dean’s footsteps slowing down, until he stood in the doorway, able to see Cas and Logan, who had taken a seat on the bed. One of his arms was rested around Cas’s shoulder, while the other held his left hand. They had been watching Jack who was still sat on the floor, before their heads turned at the sound of Dean’s footsteps. 

“Hey,” Dean greeted giving a half hearted smile at the pair. Logan was dressed much different then from when Dean had first met him, wearing jeans and a simple button up instead of his suit. 

“Hey,” Logan greeted, “thanks for driving him to the hospital.”

Dean shrugged “It was nothing.” He looked away from Logan and to Cas who had returned to watching Jack play, “Are you okay if I leave?” Dean asked.

Cas looked up to Dean, “of course.” For a second it seemed like he was going to stand up to say goodbye, though as he glanced back to Logan just for a second, he instead stayed sitting, giving Dean a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Without another word Dean turned away, walking back through the hospital. 

Once he got back to his car he collapsed into the front seat, and pulled out his phone immediately going to his messages and scrolling through them until he found Sam’s name. ‘Going to be home late.’ He sent the message waiting for a second before he began to type a second one, ‘Hospitals slower than expected.’

Once the second message had sent Dean switched to google, his fingers hesitating over the screen for a second before he began typing. ‘Nearest clubs,’ five expensive ones popped up. As he flipped through them a text from Sam came.

“K, hope everythings going well.”


	9. Chapter eight

Trigger Warning:  
Drug use

The facetime came sometime between his sixth and seventh dose, at the peak when his body was high with adrenaline, and his heart hammered faster then the beat of the music. He had staggered away from whichever girl he’d been pressed against and to one of the bartenders begging, and then bribing for them to give him a private room to answer his call in. 

They led him to a small broom closet, which Dean took gratefully, collapsing against the only empty wall. When he pushed the door closed with his foot everything became dark, hopefully enough that Crowley wouldn't be able to see the dilation of his pupils, or the sweat that dripped down his forehead.

He pulled his phone out, already having missed the first call, he slid accept to the second. Act normal, act normal, was all he could repeat to himself, ignoring the fact that he couldn't exactly remember what normal was.

The phone screen lit up as Crowley's face appeared at the other end. He sat in his office, the pristine white walls, and clean decor unmistakable, contrasting against his usual black suit. “Dean-” He greeted, his professional tone dropped, as his expression changed from emotionless to confusion, “are you in a closet?”

Dean glanced back and forth, just able to see the shelves and brooms through the darkness. He’d forgotten he wasn’t still in the club dancing with some girl, the music blaring through his head. It was a nice change, he didn’t think his heart, or eyes, could’ve handled it much longer. 

“Yes?”

Crowley stared at Dean, and Dean forced himself to look back, though he had trouble keeping his eyes in one spot, always seemed to drift to the small part of the screen where his own image was. The same went for his other hand, that didn't hold his phone, tapping away at his thigh to a random beat. “Are you not going to explain why to me?”

“Oh- yah.” He pushed himself from the wall, switching to another. He’d only been in the closet for a minute though he didn’t think he could stay for much longer, his skin itching with energy, to move and dance, and sing at the top of his lungs with the rest of the club. “I’m at my brothers, and you know kids, two rooms, couches. Closets are the only thing private.”

“Oh?” Crolwey nodded slightly, though he didn’t seem fully convinced. “Anyways the record label got back to me, and they’re pissed-”

“They’re always fucking pissed, it’s not my fucking fault that I made one fucking mistake.” Dean snapped

“They want to drop you.” Dean’s head turned from the broom he’d been watching and to Crowley, so quickly the world seemed to flip, his stomach following. He was going to throw up. “Lucky for you I'm a bloody good manager, and was able to make a deal with them. They want an album written by next year.”

“Fuck them! It’s August!” Dean cried, “the end of august!”

“Yes, I agree the time limit is a little iffy, but it’s all I could get from them,” Crowley explained, though Dean barely listened as he could feel the cocaine wear off as it was bound to do. Slowly the high he felt became a crushing feeling in his stomach as if he’d been holding the world on his shoulders. He slowly slid down the wall, no longer having the energy to stand. “Lee will be writing half the songs, I'm sure you can do the other half?.”

“Don’t I have a contract with them?” 

“Yes, a three album contract, now let me see, you released your first album by yourself, then your second with them,” He raised a finger as he said that, “and then your third.” He raised a second finger, “and then your forth,” Crowley raised a third finger, which he then sarcastically looked down at before showing them to Dean. “and look at that, you've finished the three albums!” 

“This is bullshit!”

“Would you rather be dropped? No one else is going to pick you up!” Dean sighed. He brought one knee to his chest, even through his jeans he could feel his burning skin. “You’re a known drug addict. Every record label knows to stay away from your disaster of a career.”

“So my only option is to write twelve songs, in-” Dean paused, trying to count the months in his head though he always seemed to count June twice, and for some reason he added Wednesday which he knew was wrong though he couldn’t figure out why.

“four months.”

“Thats bullshit.” Dean repeated, which Crowley nodded in agreement. 

“In November they want you back in LA for a few days, just to see how things are coming along.” Dean didn't reply, his eyes wandering away from his phone and down to the small gap at the bottom of the door, where a thin strip of light could be seen. His heart was still hammering, and even without the noise, or lights, or the movement, his head still seemed to spin. “Dean?” he hummed in acknowledgment, “we’ll figure things out.”

“sure.” He didn't wait for Crowley to reply before he hung up, no longer able to deal with the other, though his phone stayed on, casting shadows across the closet. He sat there for a second, able to feel as the exhaustion began to slowly take over, even still his forearm, where the needle had been pressed, was numb. He didn’t think he could stand without his legs giving out.

His gaze moved from the door to the ceiling as he watched the darkness, able to feel nothing but the intense depression that took over. Cutting through his body in pain that always came after the high. It was never slow, instead all at once, the wishes for death, the wish for some way to get rid of the pain that clouted his mind, though the solution always seemed to be another dose. Just one more line to fix the depression, then another when that high faded and the depression was back, and then another. Over and over, until he passed out.

Dean pulled his keys out from his pocket, followed by one of the bags' coke, not even having the energy to inject, deciding snorting it would have to do, when his phone rang. Across the top of the screen a message from Sam appeared, gone before he could even read it. 

Deans clicked open his messages app, and then Sam’s name, the most recent message appearing, ‘I’m outside’. His fingers hesitated for a second before he quickly typed out the word hospital with a question mark, and hit send. It took a minute, then the indication of Sam’s typing came and his message appeared, ‘the club’. Dean’s heart might as well have stopped as he stared at the message, another one popping up seconds later, ‘come out’.

Darkness filled the closet as Dean shut his phone off, and slowly pushed himself from the floor, the shapes, and shadows spinning around him as he staggered for the door knob. He didn’t want Sam to see him high but he’d prefer it then the fallout, when he was too exhausted to even speak. The cravings so intense he couldn’t keep a single thought straight. He staggered through the crowded club, not caring who he pushed, or what he knocked over, just needing to get out of there. He only stopped once, just at the entrance to give a handful twenties to a man, who then gave Dean his sunglasses, which Dean placed over his eyes before stepping onto the New York streets.

Sam’s car was easy to find, parked almost directly in front of the club, with his head lights on.

When Dean opened the passenger door, and took a seat he was at first hesitant to look at his brother who would surely make no effort to hide his disappointment. Something Dean couldn’t handle in the best of times. “How’d you know where I was?” Dean finally asked when Sam hadn’t began to drive, or speak. He turned to the other, and just as he had expected Sam had a deep frown across his face, the exhaustion and anger clear. 

“I saw Cas and Logan return, and when you didn’t I checked all the clubs near the hospital.” Sam hadn’t looked at Dean, instead his vision stayed forward, watching as people walked in and out of the club. “The impala doesn’t exactly blend in”

“She likes to stand out.”

Sam didn’t reply, though as he let out a shaky breath he turned to face Dean. “Take off the sunglasses.”

“What?”

“Take them off.” Sam insisted which Dean only shook his head to, “are you high?”

“No.”

“Then you can take them off,” Dean grit his teeth, slowly he raised his shaking hand, and pulled the sunglasses from his face. He didn’t know what to expect, some dramatic gasp from his brother, violin music playing in the background, but Sam’s expression didn’t change, only seeming more defeated. “Do you have any on you?”

Dean let out what he hoped was a steady breath, glancing to the passenger door. He wanted to run back to the club, or anywhere else, run until his feet bled and Sam couldn’t find him. He couldn’t handle his little brother trying to save him. That wasn’t Sam’s job. With the mix of emotions rushing through, the way his head spun, and the racing of his heart, Dean’s stomach had become a turning mess, on the verge of throwing up the little he had. “No,” He finally lied.

“Give me your coat,” this time Dean didn’t argue, too exhausted to, and instead he pulled off his leather jacket handing it to his brother. Sam Immediately began digging through the front pockets, then when he didn’t find anything, beginning to dig through the inside pockets. “Dean,” Sam said, his voice steady, yet hollow, as he held the three small bags, all filled with white powder. “Why,” Sam asked, his mouth opened to say something else though Dean cut him off.

“I don’t know.” Dean finally shrugged, his eyes no longer watching his brother but the drugs, watching as they swayed slightly. He’d never planned to use it all that night, at least that’s what he would tell himself. He had control. He didn’t need the drug. He wasn’t addicted 

Sam took another deep breath, his own eyes never leaving Dean, his lips sat parted slightly. “You don’t know why you decided to go and snort crack?”

“It’s not crack,” Dean spat, “I'm not going to get fucking lung cancer.”

“Oh i’m so sorry I didn’t realize you only liked nose cancer, that makes everything better.” Despite Sam's sarcastic words, his voice didn’t raise, or faulter, and somehow that made everything worse. “What were you thinking?”

“I told you! I don't know!”

“Please Dean, explain this to me, so I can help”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” Dean snapped, looking back at his brother as he clenched his fists. “It’s not your fucking problem, it’s mine,” Dean screamened. “I didn’t fucking need you in LA, and don’t fucking need you now!” He took a deep breath, eyes glancing across Sam’s defeated look, his hazy eyes, and slightly reddened nose. He looked awful. “So get that through your thick fucking head! I’m fine on my own!”

“But you don't have to be.”

Dean didn't reply, instead crossing his arms and twisting his body so he faced the door. It was childish but Dean didn’t take care, keeping the act up as Sam reversed, and began driving. 

He didn’t say anything as he kept his eyes on the streets, until the familiar burning began in his throat. “Pull over!” 

“What?”

“Pull the fucking car over!” Dean yelled, his brother immediately doing it without another question.

They had barely come to a stop when Dean pushed the door open, practically falling out of the car, and onto the cement ground. Dean shoved his finger into his mouth, pushing them as far as they could go until he felt the throw up coming, his throat burning with acid as he threw up alcohol onto the streets.

Dean could only hold himself up for another second before his arms gave out and he collapsed onto the ground, most of his right arm falling into his throw up, the kind that was only a mix of various liquids. His vision stayed somewhere in the distance, where the light didn’t reach, and the sidewalk had become engulfed darkness. He wished he was dead, as he lay there unmoving. His chest barely raising and lowering, he couldn’t care to breathe. He wished that Sam would leave him there, let him choke on his own vomit. That would have been a story worthy of buzzfeed. 

“Dean?” His name sounded distant, as if screamed from behind glass. Even still he didn’t move, keeping his head rested against the hard sidewalk as he spat out what was left of the throw up, most ending up on his chin. Arms were soon at his arm’s helping him stagger to his feet, and then into the passenger seat. He could still taste the acid in his mouth, and the burning in his nose, but he couldn’t care, much like how he couldn’t care enough to wipe away the throw up that dripped down his face.

“Next week the kids start school.” Sam began, as he closed his own door and once again started the car, “on Sunday we’re going to go to the mall to buy a few last minute things, don’t be high.”

“I’ll try.”


	10. Chapter nine

Trigger warning:  
Drug use 

Addicted, to be physically or mentally dependent upon a particular substance, and to be unable to stop taking it without experiencing harsh side effects. Dean wasn’t addicted. He didn’t need to feel the drug take over his mind, wash away all his worries, and fears, replaced only with euphoria. He didn’t need to feel the high like no other. The way the syringe felt in his hands, the taste that would come with each injection. He didn’t need the drug, he wasn’t addicted, no matter how much Sam liked to insist he was. He liked the feeling, he didn’t need it. He used the drug for fun not because without it he was a crumbling mess that could barely stand, so desperate for another dose he would be willing to slit his own throat.

No, he wasn't addicted, Sam was being paranoid. Making a bigger deal out of things like he always had. 

That’s what Dean told himself throughout the week after Sam had dragged him from the club, in an attempt to calm his nerves. Sam was being foolish. Sam was being over protective. Sam was pushing his grief for Jess onto Dean. Dean was fine. And he continued to tell himself that until the Sunday before the kids first day back to school, when he was prepared to once again break his promise to Sam, without a second thought. 

He was sat on the bathroom floor, a bag of cocaine at his feet, while his key was gripped in his hand,white powder filling the divit. He stared at it for a second, the contrasts of colour, the powdery drug, that he’d been so careful not to get anywhere else in the bathroom. He continued to stare, until he pressed his left thumb to his nose, closing one nostril, while he brought the key to the other. A breath parted his lips before with scrunched eyes he snorted the powder.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered. He rubbed the palm of his hand against his nose, in a weak attempt to stop the burning that had immediately began through his nostrils and down his throat. He kept his hand pressed to his nose, until the burning had gone away, replaced by a numb feeling.

He then prepared a second line. The key had just been brought to his nose, when a hard knock came from the door, “Dean, we’ve got to get going!” He froze watching the door in fear, he’d locked it. He had to have, he wasn’t that stupid. Unless Sam had a key. Could Sam get in, would he? “Cas’s waiting for us!”

“Hold your horses, I just need to brush my teeth.”

A shift came from through the door, and Dean's breath halted, glancing down to the bag at his feet. “We’ll meet you at the car.”

“Sounds good!”

Dean didn’t move until he heard the slam of the front door. He then quickly brought the key back to his nose and snorted the second line. 

He rested his head back, only breathing as he felt the smallest burst of energy, the slightest change. That was the thing about snorting it was never enough. The high always shorter, and much weaker, to the point that Dean might as well have just drunk a few cups of coffee, nothing like injecting. But it was enough to get him properly functioning, and most importantly without Sam being able to notice.

Shakingly Dean pushed himself from the bathroom floor, grabbing the bag of cocaine which he shoved back into his pocket. He gave himself once last glance into the mirror before he pulled his sunglasses on and walked out of the bathroom, and through the apartment. 

He practically ran through the apartment halls, down the staircase and through the door that led to the apartments underground parking lot. The cocaine had begun to set in and with it the paranoia, though usual at home it would be for the cops, now it was for Sam, worried his little brother would know what Dean had done if he spent another second alone.

“Hey!” Dean greeted when he finally reached Sam’s car, an ugly white van, with chipping paint, and an even worse inside, frankly Dean preferred Crowley's ferrari. Sam was reseted against the drivers door, while Cas stood a foot or so away,

“Hello Dean.” Castiel greeted, giving Dean the smallest smile as a greeting. 

Dean slicked back his quickly darting across Cas’s features. As always he was gorgeous, even with the fading bruises that covered his lower face. His hair was done in its usual mess though instead of his trench coat he wore a simple dark blue t-shirt with his black dress pants, making the white cast around his right arm stand out. 

“Dean?” Cas asked, which Dean nodded to in response, eyes still watching Cas's every movement. The way he didn’t shift often, standing so still he could’ve been a statue, with his usual perfect posture. “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dean glanced to his brother. Had Sam said something, or had Cas seen something. Did he forget to put on the sunglasses? Dean brought his hand to his face feeling the plastic of the sunglasses as well as a sticky substance from his nose. “Son of a bitch,” he cried as he looked at the crimson red blood that now coated his fingers. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” He continued to cry as he frantically wiped the side of his hand across his face, attempting to stop the nosebleed

The usual ringing in his ears that came with using cocaine had began, though was nothing more than a low vibration that seemed to get worse as he frantically swiped at his face. “Dean,” Sam said, grabbing Dean’s wrist before he could once again swipe it across his face. He looked down at Dean, the disappointment, or maybe it was concern, that Dean had tried so hard to avoid clear across his face. Shit, did he know. How could he have, other than the nose bleed Dean hadn't done anything wrong. Even to himself, he felt fairly normal, just with a hint of more energy, there was no way Sam could’ve found out. “That’s not going to do anything,” Sam let go of Dean’s wrist, Dean letting it fall back to his side. “There’s tissue in the car, so let’s get going, and you can stop looking like a fool of yourself.”

“Am not!” Dean glanced towards Cas who had made himself busy by helping Jack get his seat belt on. “Fine, let’s go.” 

Dean walked around the car getting into the passenger seat, while Sam got in the drivers, and Cas in the back with Jack, while Ellie and John were in the far back. The first half of the drive was filled with conversation, mostly between Sam and Dean though Cas joined in occasionally, and Jack attempted to at times though he couldn’t talk much. While Ellie sang from the back of the car, singing as loudly as she could to whatever song played on the radio. It lasted until the high had worn off and Dean had become exhausted, instead finding more interest in watching the New York streets whizz by then talking.

It was much different than LA, he missed the beaches and the laid back attitude of everyone. In New York, especially along the store fronts, everyone seemed stuck up, wearing the newest expensive brands, whereas in LA you could wear nothing but swim shorts and not get a second look.

“Thank you for the ride.” Cas said once Sam had parked the car outside of Queen Center.

“Of course.” Sam said. 

Dean slowly pushed open the passenger seat, shakinly getting out. His group stayed tight on the door, as he stood, making sure he could without completely crumbling from the exhaustion. He wanted to kill himself, the depression he felt so strong he might as well have been shot in the chest. Once he was sure he could stand, Dean shoved the door closed, moving his hands to adjust his sunglasses as he walked around the van and to everyone else who had already gotten out. 

“Dean,” Sam began as they started walking to the mall, Dean only humming in response “I’m going to bring John to a few stores to get him some clothing and some notebooks could you take Ellie?”

Dean once again adjusted his sunglasses as Sam gave him a glance, pushing them close to his face as if Sam would’ve been able to see his eyes. Dean looked towards the young girl, who walked a hadead of them holding one of Jack’s hands while Cas held the other. He couldn’t hold a single conversation with her, never mind drag her through the small for hours, but Dean didn’t have the energy to argue, instead giving a nod. “Cool, so I just need you to get her an outfit, something nice for her first day of school, or whatever she wants, and some pencil.”

“Can do.”

They stepped into the mall, somehow the lights became even brighter than before. Cas had stopped to face the brothers Jack and Ellie still at his side. John a few steps away. “So how about,” Dean began, getting the attention of the rest of the group, “you guys make a plan, and i’ll run to the bathroom? We all agree?” Dean paused for a second, though not long enough for a reply, “awesome!”’

Before anyone, mainly Sam, could argue Dean turned, pushing his way through the crowd and to the nearest bathroom he could find. He stumbled into one of the stalls, slamming the door shut, aand double checking that he had locked it before he leant back against the door, letting out a shaky breath.

His throat was still numb though that, and the blood that stained his sleeve were the only signs he’d ever been high. With steady hands he pulled his key and cocaine out from his pocket. Just like he had at Sam’s, he prepared the line, filling the keys divot with white powder then bringing it to his nostril.

He hesitated for a second, the powder barely a centimeter from his nose, before he closed his eyes and without a second thought snorted the powder. A second line quickly followed. Dean then pushed his way out of the bathroom and back into the mall. He couldn’t waste time, in fear of making Sam suspicious, though as he walked back up to his small group none of them seemed concerned. 

“So,” Dean began, both Sam and Cas turning their heads at the sound of his voice, “who's ready to go shopping?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning everyone! I hope you all had an amazing weekend! I just wanted to say that I'm fairly new to AO3 so I'm currently figuring out how everything works! Sorry if that annoying! Also! I'll be updating every weekday! I hope you all have a fantastic Monday!  
> lots of love, Paige


	11. Chapter ten

Shopping with Ellie had been a blur of clothing, cocaine, and autographs, as they bounced from clothing store to clothing store only taking breaks for Dean to snort a few lines, or take a photo with a fan. It worked, Dean got to be high, and no one seemed to notice. Even if he had spent most of the time with a five year old who thought it was normal to lick a vending machine’s glass. By the time the clock hit 2:30, they would be meeting everyone else at 3:00, Dean’s feet burned even through the high, and his nose had bled three times. The moment they’d gotten to Justice, which would most likely be their last store and Ellie had all the clothing she wanted to try on, Dean collapsed on a table, not caring that he sat on piles of folded clothing.

“Do you need any help?” Dean called when Ellie had closed the changing room curtain, and a shuffling behind it had begun.

Dean shifted a bit so he lent against the table instead of sitting on it, adjusting his sunglasses. “No,” Ellie called from the other side. 

There was more shuffling before the curtain was pulled back and Ellie stepped out wearing a light pink dress that hung to her ankles, with a large neckline that left one sleeve falling from her shoulder.

“You sure it isn’t too big.” Dean asked, getting a dramatic head shake in response.

“I’ll grow!” 

He nodded, though he really didn’t believe it, she’d be tall, but Sam had been under five feet until at least fourteen. He could only guess Ellie would be the same. “Alright then!” Dean said, “are you going to give me a twirl?”

She frowned slightly but did as Dean asked, shuffling in a slow circle. “Come on,” Dean said, as he watched her, “show me a real twirl!” Ellie gave Dean another frown but once again did a shuffled turn, looking more like a penguin then anything. “Alright, let me show you how it’s done.”

Dean stood, stumbling slightly at first before he gained his balance. He glanced at Ellie who still had an uncertain look across her face. Dean raised his arms out in front of him like a ballerina would and used his right foot to push himself into a spin, twirling a few times before he came to a stop. When he stopped his gaze landed once again on the young girl, whose frown had become a small smile. “Now are you going to give me a real twirl or am I just going t’have to twirl by myself?”

Ellie giggled, nodding her head. She adjusted her stance so she stood like Dean had, right foot pointed out, hands held out in front of her, before she made a shaken attempt at spinning. 

“Now that was a twirl,” Dean cried, giving an applause, “how about you show me another outfit.”

“Yah! Ellie cried. Dean watched with a smile as she once again disappeared behind the change room curtain. Things were working, most of the shopping had been silent, but now. She seemed to actually like him, or at least could stand being around him and that was enough for Dean. “You ready?”

“Yah.” 

The curtain was pulled open and Ellie stepped out, now wearing a red skirt, and green shirt, both once again seeming a size or two too big. The moment she’d stepped out she attempted to do another shaky twirl, which Dean politely applauded. “Wow, look at that colour,” Dean said, raising his voice slightly in a way he would imagine a fashion announcer would, “green against red? A bold choice!”

Ellie giggled, and gave Dean another twirl, “want to see the another?”

“Yah!”

Ellie gave one last twirl before she went back into the changing room, returning a few seconds later in star embroidered jeans and a pink striped shirt. When she stepped out Dean gave a dramatic gasp, “Look at you, look at that colour.” Ellie laughed as Dean stood, making each movement dramatic as he walked around her, hand rubbing his chin in thought. “That choice of embroidery? Stunning? Did you pick this out yourself?”

Dean raised his fist to her as if giving her a microphone to speak into. She looked down to his hand then up to him, her blue eyes shining, a smile still wide across her face. “Yes!” She cried into Dean’s hand.

He laughed bringing his fist back to his mouth, speaking into it, “and what made you choose this,” Dean looked down to her outfit, “Interesting choice?”

He once again brought the ‘microphone’ to Ellie who immediately lent closer to it to speak, “I like stars and i thinked it was pretty.”

“Well i’d love to see another one of your outfits.”

“Yah!”

The game continued on, Ellie trying things out, then twirling and striking poses. While Dean continued to announce, complimenting her choice in color, or style, and occasionally asking for her to explain a part of the outfit. They played the game until a few minutes before three when Dean could no longer handle being sober, and needed another line. After buying Ellie’s two favourite outfits, and stopping at the washroom for Dean, they made their way to the arcade where Sam, and Cas already were, Jack at Cas’s side, while John was already inside looking at the various games. 

“Shopping was succdsful as fuck,” Dean said as we walked up to the others, he lifted the shopping bags to show them, Ellie mimicking his actions and lifting the bags she held.

“Daddy, we buyed so much!” Ellie cried. She ran up to her dad, immediately sitting at his feet, and begging to pull things from her shopping bags to show him. “See, see!” she cried, lifting up a baby blue sundress they’d bought from the first store they’d gone to.

Sam smiled down at his daughter nodding along to her rambling, “Yah I see. How about we look at it at home, your brothers waiting for us.”

“Okay!” Ellie cried, she grabbed her bags with one hand, and then Sam’s hand with the other before pulling him towards the arcade. “Let’s play games!”

Dean watched with a smile as his brother was dragged away into the mall's cheap arcade room. When they disappeared behind a row of machines Dean finally looked away and to Castiel who was attempting to calm down Jack, the child having grabbed Castiel's left arm and was shaking it as harshly as he could. While Castiel's casted arm held a few shopping bags.

“Do you want some help?” 

“I can do it.”

“Come on Cas it looks painful.

There was a moment where Cas looked up at Dean with uncertainty, his lips parted just slightest. He started with such intensity Dean might as well have given him a life or death question, not an offer to carry a few bags. “Are you sure?” He finally asked.

“Yah,” Dean said, “why wouldn't I be?” Slowly Cas raised his casted arm, and Dean took the bags from him, his blue eyes watching Dean’s move with hesitation. “Is everything alright?” Dean asked with a confused frown. Cas looked like a deer caught in headlights, the silence that hung around them suffocating, even Jack had stopped his cries. 

“Of course.” He gave Dean a small smile, “we should probably go inside.”

Dean followed Cas into the arcade, the lighting immediately becoming dimmer much to Dean's appreciation. Though with the dim lights the noise increased, the low chatter of the mall being replaced by the screaming of children, and buzzing of various arcade games. It caused his head to spin as he staggered after Castiel and Jack, the young boy having immediately ran off and towards a small basketball machine.

“Shit.” Dean mumbled, shifting the sunglasses closer to his face as if that would stop his pounding headache. He stopped next to Cas watching Jack hop at the machine in attempt to grab one of the basketballs, though he was too short to even reach the ledge of the machine

“Daddy, daddy.” He cried, he raised his arms attempting to grab one of the balls. “I wants to play!” Jack turned to Cas once again grabbing at his arm and shaking it rapidly, “like papa.”

Dean smiled as Cas lent down using one arm to help boost Jack up, so the child stood on the ledge, usually meant for bags and tokens. Dean pulled out his wallet as Cas made sure Jack wouldn’t fall, placing a few quarters into Jack's machine and then the one next to it. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Dean looked to Cas, the smile still on his own face. The machine's bright lighting had casted shadows across Castiel's, just illuminating his bright eyes, and his slightly parted lips. They were close, not as close they usually stood but close enough that with two more steps forward and they’re chests would touch, or even without moving he could reach his arm out. 

“It’s nothing.” Dean finally breathed out, eyes lingering on Castiel even when he turned away to press play on the machine, and began helping Jack pick up the basketballs.

Dean finally turned away, hitting play and grabbing a basketball from his own machine. It counted down from sixty seconds, and though the hoop was barely two feet away, and maybe a foot taller than him Dean only hit ten points, having spent most of the time glancing at Cas. Watching as the other man cheered his son on whenever Jack managed to hit the rim. 

After the game had finished Dean and Cas followed Jack from game to game, though Jack never played any only touching buttons occasionally before he moved on to the next. Finally he stopped in front of a whack a mole machine, looking first up to Dean then to Cas. “I wants to play!” Jack cried.

“Alright,” Dean said before Cas could say anything, “Do you have your hammer?” Dean asked which Jack nodded to, picking up the larger hammer that was attached to the machine by a string, “Get ready!” Dean put a few quarters into the machine, “and-“ Dean pushed the start button, the fake moles immediately popping in and out of the holes, “go.” 

He watched with a smile as Jack began rapidly hitting as hard as he could, more time then not hitting an empty hole. “Thank you.” 

Dean turned to Cas still smiling. They were even closer than before, less than an arms length away, so close that Dean could barely hear anything other than the racing of his own heart. He could step closer, and with the confidence that only cocaine could bring Dean did, taking the smallest step forward. He was close enough to see the skin just under the collar of Castiel’s t-shirt, his clearly defined collar bones, the bruises that had crept down his neck, and the way his chest raised as he breathed slowly. “Of course,” Dean breathed out, thankful for the sunglasses that let him stare at Cas’s lips for as long as he wanted. “So,” Dean began when the conversation had become silent, Cas no longer looking at Dean but instead watching Jack, “are you free this week? The kids are going to school, and it's going to be a long week if i’m spending it alone.”

There was a moment of silence as Cas’s eyes glanced across Dean’s fcae before he slowly nodded, “I’m available on tuesday.”

“Awesome!” Dean cried, quickly cutting himself off, and instead nodding in hopes to hide his excitement.

The conversation once again fell silent though this time neither of them looked away, Dean too busy studying the other’s eyes, his eyelashes, every small detail he could manage. Even when the game of whack a mole had ended and Jack was just hitting the machine, they continued to stare. So close that all Dean had to do was lean forward, just the slightest and he’d be able to feel the other’s heat. 

Finally Cas’s eyes darted away at the sudden buzzing of his phone. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled pulling it out of his pocket, “it’s Logan,” he whispered out, “I should probably take this.”

“I’ll give you some space.”

Dean glanced to Cas one more time before he turned away, walking through the games till he found Sam and his kids at a large connect four game. Ellie on one seat well John sat in the other, Sam jumping between the both in an attempt to help both kids, though in the end John won. “Sam look,” Dean cried when the game had ended. He grabbed his brother’s sleeve pointing a machine against the wall. He dragged his brother towards it, the sound of Ellie and Johns foot steps following, “Its fucking buck hunt!” He cried, stopping in front of the hunting game.

“Remember how much time we spent on this game?”

Sam smiled nodding his head. “Yah,” he picked up one of the guns that attached to the machine, raising it slightly, “Dad would have to drag us away every night.”

Dean crouched down putting a few quarters into the machine, before he grabbed the other gun, “I'm so going to kick your ass,” Dean said before he hit the start button. Neither brother spoke, only Ellie’s cheers filling the silence, as the timer began, Dean raising his gun at the same time, and beginning to shoot at the virtual deer as fast as he could; though even with his sunglasses staring at the screen was hard. Causing his head to spin as he watched the deer run across it. When the game had ended and it was clear Sam had one, maybe for the first time ever, Dean let the gun fall from his hand, and squeezed his eyes shut, in an attempt to calm the dizzy feeling.

“I let you win.” Dean finally said when his eyes had fluttered back open, though it had done nothing for his headache, “didn’t wanna embarrass you in front of your kids.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Before Dean could reply, Sam’s attention was quickly brought to Ellie who pulled at his sleeve, begging for a turn on the machine, which Sam agreed to. Dean watched as the game began, both kids absolutely awful as they attempted to shoot at the deer.

“Dean.”

“Yah?” Dean turned, his eyes landing on Castiel, who’d just stepped next to him.

“Could I have my bags?” 

“Yah, of course,” Dean shifted a few bags from one hand to the other, making sure he didn’t give away any of Ellie’s. “Is everything alright?” 

Cas nodded. He adjusted his casted arm to hold the bags, while the other gripped Jack's hand, the child doing small twirls, while humming a small song to himself. “I just need to go home.” 

“We can drive you,” Sam offered. He stepped away from his kids to talk. 

Cas’s blue eyes darted from the two brothers before they rested on Dean. They were slightly wider than normal, his usually perfect stance no longer but instead Dean could see him shift his weight every so often from foot to foot.

“It’s fine.” Cas insisted, “I can take the subway.” 

Dean stepped forward the slightest, towards Castiel “are you sure?” He asked, his eyes glanced across Castiel’s face, his eyes, the cut across his forehead, the bruising across his lower face. 

“Yes.”

Neither brother gave another argument as Cas said his quick goodbyes before he turned and walked away. Almost dragging Jack behind him. “Fuck it,” Dean mumbeled, when Cas was no longer visible. He moved the shopping bags from around his arms, and to his hands before he shoved them into Sam’s arms. “I’m going to t’make sure he’s alright,” Dean explained, fumbling over his own words as he had already begun walking backwards. 

He didn’t wait for a response, instead turning and running away. Through the arcade, and back into the crowded mall, he first glanced to the left, and then the right, where he just got a glance of Castiel’s black hair. 

“Cas,” he yelled, running forward. “Cas!” He pushed hIs way through a couple, and then reached his arm out to get Castiel's attention. 

The moment his hand touched the others shoulders Cas froze, slowly turning around to meet Deans gaze. “Sorry for scaring you,” Dean began. He let out a breath as he stepped the slightest bit closer to the other, letting his hand linger on Cas’s shoulder, before he brought it back to his side, “I just- you don’t have to go.” 

“I do,” Cas insisted, even as he spoke he walked backwards slowly. His eyes darted from Dean's face to the mall entrance that was a few shops away. “I am very sorry.”

“We can drive you, it isn’t a problem.”

“I have to go.”

Dean finally nodded, “I’ll see on Tuesday?” 

“Of course.” Castiel said, “goodbye Dean.”

“See yah,” though Cas has already turned away, disappearing into the crowd of people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> over 200 reads??? thank you all so much!!   
> I hope you're all enjoying this story so far! and having a great week!  
> Lot's of love, Paige


	12. Chapter eleven

It was the kids first day back to school and all Dean wished was to be anywhere else, preferably passed out on Sam’s couch, but in the middle of the school's crowded halls. Pushing past children and frantic parents as he followed his brother, and the kids down various halls, at first going upstairs before they realized they’d gone the wrong way. As they managed to get back down the stairs, and walked back down the hall they’d just come from, Dean decided being passed out on Lee’s law, something that always led to being awoken by sprinklers, would’ve been better than roaming down the musty halls. A faint smell, similar to a chuck e cheese, hung in the air. Finally after turning down another hall they came to a stop in front of Ellie’s classroom. 

Elllie looked up at Sam saying something that Dean couldn’t quite hear from a few feet away. “Dean,” She cried, turning away from Sam to look at Dean, a few strands of hair had fallen in her face, where it stayed as she made no attempt to push them away. 

“Yah?” He hummed in response. He took a step closer to the others as a child ran past him, a quite angry mother following closer behind.

Dean lent slightly on his right foot. “Look!” Ellie cried once again. She turned pointing at her classroom door, which was just a simple metal door, with a gold plate across the center, the word kindergarten engraved across it. “It’s my class!”

Dean smiled, as Ellie began bouncing, tugging at Sam's arm. “Yah, it sure is,” Dean replied.

Her bouncing paused, as she looked to Dean, then back up at Sam, “Can we go inside?” She begged, “Please! Please! Please!” 

Sam laughed nodding his head, “of course princess.” 

Dean followed Sam and his kids into the classroom, the hallway suddenly seeming much more inviting as the screams of children only increased. The room itself wasn’t very big, though the furniture was small, round desks that barely reached Dean’s knee filling most of the space, with chairs placed around them that weren’t much taller. Across the back wall hooks hung, already some containing backpacks with small cubbies below for pencils and other supplies they may have brought.

It was the stereotypical kindergarten class. The walls filled with bright posters, and shelves with more toys than books. 

Dean hung back at the doorway with John as Sam was dragged across the room by Ellie. Her excited scream only blending in with the mix of other children. It was filled with chaos and all Dean could do was cringe. 

“Wanna wait for your dad in the hall?” Dean asked, getting a small nod from the young boy. 

Together they walked back into the hallway, where Dean rested against the wall, his eyes darting across the floor, in an attempt to avoid John’s stare. “So,” Dean began, looking up at the young boy. “You excited for your first day back?”

He got a small shrug in response. Other than the lack of speaking, he was just like Sam was when he was a kid, from the fluffy brown hair, to the fact that he always had his nose in a book. Name the kid anything else and Dean would have been able to be around him, feeling more than just guilt.

“Do ya have friends in your class?” John nodded. “That’s good. Classes are shit if you don’t.” After John had nodded once again in agreeance Dean didn’t make any attempt to talk instead flipping through his phone in hopes to seem busy. Continuing to do the action until Sam had stepped out of the classroom. 

“Alright buddy let’s get you to your class,” Sam said to his son as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, leading him back down the hall. Dean followed behind back down the hallway they’d just come from, and up a staircase, where they turned into the first classroom. Unlike Ellie’s, the 2nd grade class had single desks all sat in proper rows, most empty, with kids and parents instead standing around them. 

“How about you go find your desk, well I talk to your teacher?” Sam suggested when they’d walked in.

John nodded, before he turned away beginning to walk through the rows of desks. Sam watched his son, Dean glancing between the pair. He gave his brother the slightest nudge, getting Sam’s attention, “Teacher time?” Dean asked.

Sam took a shaken breath, then nodding agrrence. Together they walked to the front of the class where the teachers desk sat, a short man standing behind it.

“Hello,” he greeted. “My name’s Garth Fitzgerald the fourth.” He offered his hand out which Sam shook, then Dean.

“Sam Winchester.”

“And I'm Dean Winchester.”

A slightly shocked looked spread across the man's face for a second before he'd quickly cleared his throat, giving a smile. “Oh-” He began, before Dean cut him off realizing where he was going.

“No! Fuck No!” Dean cried, pausing for a second, “I mean yes, but not with him.” Dean could practically feel Sam’s bitchface as his explanation rambled on, “I’m his older brother.”

“Oh,” Garth hummened, nodding along to Dean’s rambled explanation, “sorry for the confusion there.”

“I came to talk to you about my son” Sam cut in, most likely wishing he’d left Dean to sleep. “, John Winchester.'' Dean immediately looked to his feet, his breath hitching. It was the first time he had heard John’s full name, and though Dean had never liked that Sam had named his first son after their late father, he could usually manage. Though hearing it, John Winchester, it brought a sickening feeling to Dean, that he couldn't quite describe. A guilt that caused his gaze to stay at his dirty boots, and his jaw to clench.

“During the summer, John’s mother- She- My wife-”

At the shaking of his brother’s voice Dean took a deep breath and looked to his brother, who’d brought his right arm to his upper left, playing with the fabric of his flannels. “During the summer John’s mom passed away,” Dean said over Sam’s stuttered words. “He hasn’t talked since.”

The teacher looked from Dean to Sam, his expression softened, into a shocked, but pitied look. “I am so sorry for your loss, is there anything I can do.”

“It’s, uhh- its fine,” Sam replied, giving a half hearted smile. “I just- if there’s any problems could you please call me.”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” Sam gave one last have hearted smile before turning away, Dean following close behind as they walked to John’s desk for one last goodbye, and then back into the now empty hallway where they stood in silence.

Dean glanced across his brother, who hadn’t looked away from the classroom door, his brown eyes hazy and bloodshot. “Sammy,” his brother turned, a shaken breath passing his lips. They stared at each other for just a moment before Dean took a step forward and pulled his brother into a hug. 

Sam immediately buried his face into Dean’s shoulder, making no sound but for a shaking breath. “Sh-she she was supposed to be here,” Sam choked out, his words breaking occasionally as he forced deep breaths. “I wish it was me.” Dean’s grip tightened, as if it was any looser and Sam would fall apart. Slowly he lifted a hand running it down Sam’s back the same way he would when he was a child, letting it linger at his lower back for a second before continuing the action. “I- I wish it was me dead,” Sam finally choked out , his voice breaking at the end.

Dean could feel his own heart pain as Sam kept buried in Dean’s shoulder, his brother's body shaking with every choked breath. Dean’s own gripping tightened this time more for himself then Sam. He couldn’t let his brother go, he couldn’t lose him again. Not like last time, not like after their dad. 

Neither of them spoke until Sam hesitantly stepped away from Dean, hsi body lingering close to Dean for barely a second before he fully stepped away. Though he’d never cried his eyes were still red, his jaw clenched tightly, and his skin an ashen white, seeming even more pale against his beard. “We should get going,” Sam whispered, his gaze had yet to meet Dean’s instead staying to the ground. “I-I promised Ellie- I promised her we’d say goodbye one last time.”

“Are you sure,” Dean began. “I think it’d be best if we just went home, you get some sleep, I’ll have a beer for each of us.” 

Sam shook his head, though the smallest smile tugged at his lips. He ran his hands across his face, pushing his hair behind his ears. “I’m fine.” Sam said, his small smile being forced into what Sam must have thought was a reassuring smile, though it did nothing to calm Dean’s worries.

“You sure?”

“Yah, I’m fine.” Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother, “Really Dean!”

He didn’t argue again, at times Sam could be more stubborn than himself, instead he followed his brother back down the staircase. Walking past the now closed classrooms, still a few parents lingering around them, seeming unable to leave their children. “Do you mind if we grab some groceries on the way home?” Sam asked as they took a turn back into Ellie’s hallway. 

Dean breathed in through grit teeth, getting an odd look from his brother. “Let’s see, go shopping with sasquatch, or wait till tomorrow and go with our hot neighbour. That’s a real tough decision Sammy.”

“What?” Sams said, he stopped in the middle of the hallway and gave Dean another confused look. “You're taking Cathy shopping? Isn't she kinda old? Even for you?”

“Other neighbour genius.”

Sam’s face dropped in realization, “Dean, he has a boyfriend.”

“A crappy one!” 

“You can’t sleep with him! I told you! Or anyone in my building, I like them, and I want them to like me!”

“Even the junkie on floor two?”

Sam paused for a second, his eyes darting across Dean's face. “Is he worse than the junkie I live with?” 

“Low blow!” Sam laughed, he turned away from Dean and instead to Ellies door, giving Dean a small comment that he couldn’t quite hear. The same way he would as a kid when Dean had done something that particularly pissed him off. “You son of bitch!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Lots of love, Paige


	13. Chapter twelve

“You don’t listen to my music, which I don’t blame you, it’s utter crap, but what do you listen to Led Zeppelin?” Cas shook his head, “AC/DC? Metallica? Fuck Taylor Swift?”

“No, I’ve never found music incredibly interesting.”

“Bullshit.”

“Dean, why would I lie to you?”

“I don’t know! But you don’t watch movies, and you don't listen to music!” Dean said, “do you just sit around all day doin’ nothin’?” Dean popped the trunk of his impala throwing his and Castiel’s grocery bags into it before he slammed it shut. When he’d double checked that it was locked they began walking out of the grocery store parking lot, and onto the fairly empty streets, thanks to it being an early Tuesday morning. Dean tugged his jacket around his body as they walked the early sepetembr air holding an unavoidable chill. 

“I read.”

“Fuck you’re just like Sam!” 

From the corner of Dean’s eye he could see Castiel glance towards him, only for a quick second before he looked back to Jack who held his hand. Even still it was enough to make Dean’s stomach twist. Bringing a heat to his neck, and a nervousness that he never had expected to feel. It wasn’t bad, just different.

“So you read? What else?”

“I like astronomy.” 

“You spend your day, readin’, and lookin’ at stars?” 

“And looking after Jack.”

Dean looked over to Cas as they walked, a smile across his face, “You’re such a fuckin’ dork, we need t’find you some music.”

“I thought we were getting lunch.”

“Not anymore.” Dean immediately stopped walking, the person walking behind barely having time to avoid hitting him. He looked up the streets, and back the way they’d come from, all the shops just a mix of various cafes and clothing shops. He’d never been this part of the city, though he was sure it was the same as the rest, meaning some kind of record store had to be somewhere. He grabbed Castiel’s upper right arm, careful to avoid his cast, and gave it a small tug in the direction of an alleyway, Cas following without another argument. 

It continued on for another ten minutes, Dean aimlessly wandering up and down various streets, while Castiel and Jack followed close behind until they came up to a small record shop. It couldn’t have been much bigger than Sam’s living room. The center of the room filled with bins of records, while the left wall was hung with guitars and the right with stacks of cd’s, across the back a man was standing behind a desk, aimlessly flipping through a magazine.

The moment they stepped in Jack ran off to the guitars, Cas quick to follow behind, “please be careful,” Cas called, though it did little help as Jack began tugging on one of the guitar straps. Dean himself turned to the stacks of CD’s and began to sort through their small selection. Choosing out his favourites, a mix of Led Zeppelin and AC/DC, and making small comments to himself as he found artist’s he didn’t particularly enjoy.

He’d collected at least half of the Led Zeppelin selection and had just begun sorting through AC/DC when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, immediately being met by his own image on a record cover. It was his second official album, thankfully one that wasn’t a close up but a distant shot of him lent against the impala. “I want this one,” Castiel declared. He had the record raised so it covered his face, giving Dean nowhere else to look. 

“No you don’t,” Dean said, with his free hand, he took the record from Castiel and placed it onto a shelf of cd’s. “That guy’s a fucking douche.”

“He likes to think he is.” Castiel looked up at Dean giving him the softest smile.

And there it was again, the twist in Dean’s gut. The flutter of his heart. The feeling that if maybe, just maybe, he were to stare for another minute the feelings would go away, the same way another dose of cocaine kept the withdrawal away. It never did, only leaving Dean wanting another dose, another look, to be closer. Till he could feel the other’s lips against his own, his fingers brushing across Castiel’s smooth skin. Feel his warmth, his touch.

Dean took a hesitant breath, his eyes darting across Cas’s face and then to his lips. “I found some Led Zeppelin.” Dean finally said, raising the cd’s through his eyes stayed on Castiel, his breaths low. “They don’t have physical graffiti but Led Zeppelin three and four are still awesome.”

“I want your album.”

“And I told you it’s fucking crap.”

Castiel stepped forward to grab the record, Dean’s breath hitching as Cas’s arm brushed across his own, “I’m going to get it.”

“Do you even own a record player?”

Cas glanced down to the record before looking back up to Dean. “i’m going to get a cd of it.” He declared, he stepped around Dean and began storing through the CD’s, Dean watching until he finally gave in and joined Castiel. Helping the other man sort through the CD’s until they’d found his own. 

“Dean,” Cas began as Dean brought the armful of CD's to the cash register. After placing the onto onto the desk he grabbed a pair of earbuds from a small stand tossing them on top of the pile. “You don’t have to pay.”

“I know.” He turned to Cas, the other looking up with his usual uncertain look. The one that always made his eyes seem bigger, the blue colour becoming clear, and caused his lips to part the slightest. It was cute. “But,” Dean exaggerated the word, “I want to. So you can either waste your energy crying, or just let me do a nice thing for once.”

“Dean-”

“Just let me pay!” Dean insisted. 

Cas locked his jaw, his vibrant blue eyes staring back at Dean’s. He didn’t speak, his lips staying in a tight line, the only movement of his body being his shallow breaths. Dean himself mimicked the other, not moving, staring back, though his mind whirling with questions. He’d replayed their conversation, once then twice. Had he done something wrong, he didn’t think so. 

“I’m going to check on Jack,” Castiel finally said in a monotone voice. Dean watched as Cas turned away walking back to Jack who’d begun playing with amp. He continued to watch as the other crouched to his son, until the worker cleared his throat, causing Dean's head to turn; and for the second time that day he was met with his album cover. The man having raised his CD to show Dean.

“This you?”

Dean didn’t give it more than a glance before shaking his head, “no.”

The man lowered his eyebrows. He turned the CD to look at it himself, then glanced back up at Dean. “You sure?” 

“Look man, I think I’d know if I’d written an album.” 

A moment of silence passed as the man stared at Dean before giving him a small nod of agreeance, and then going back to pricing the rest of the CD’s. “That’ll be eighty six dollars, and seven five cents.” Dean slid his card through the machine, quickly typing out his password, before he grabbed the shopping bag and gave the man a small nod in thanks.

“Ready to get your awesome on?” Dean asked as he walked up to Cas, and Jack who were both sat on the ground sorting through a stack of albums. 

Cas didn’t reply.

It stayed that way as they made their way back to the apartment building, completely missing lunch and instead going directly to Cas’s apartment. Through the drive, and through the first song of Led Zeppelin III, Cas not ignoring Dean, but more avoiding, insisting he had to put Jack to bed then that he had to prepare lunch for when Jack would wake up. It seemed he’d find anything to do as long as it meant not talking. Until sometime through the second song, when at first hesitant, he began speaking to Dean. By the start of the fourth song, they both laid across the living room floor, watching the ceiling as ‘Since I’ve been loving you’ played on.

“I like this song.” Cas hummened softly from next to Dean. Dean didn’t move his eyes from the ceiling even as he heard the smallest shuffle from Cas. The only movement he made being the tapping his finger that followed the beat.

“Me too.”

The music played on and as the smallest beat dropped Dean began singing along, as loudly and as poorly as he could, “But baby, since I've been loving you, yeah,” he sang, “I'm about to lose my worried mind.”

The smallest laugh came from Deans right, and this time he twisted his head to look at the other. Castiel could have been further than a foot away, his own head already twisted to watch Dean, a smile spread across his face. The lights above hadn’t been turned on, though with the afternoon sunlight that fell through the window, Castiel’s face had been lightened up. Leaving a soft glow to his tan skin. 

The moment as Dean stared passed, but not with the usual twist in his stomach. Instead a light feeling, an electric energy that burst through him, the same way when cocaine was first injected. A light energy that made him want to scream, and jump, and kiss Castiel till he could no longer breath.

“Are you not a singer?” 

“Doesn’t mean I have to be good.” 

Cas let out another small laugh, his nose scrunching. From the way he laid a few strands of hair fell into his face, long enough to almost touch his eyes,and Dean could only stare. Wanting to brush the strands from his eyes, then let his hand hesitate on the side of Castiel’s face before letting it run across the side of his cheek. Let his touch feel Castiel’s smooth skin, his stubble, all while their eyes never broke contact. But Dean did none of it, only smiling back. 

“I want to listen to yours.”

“No!” Dean complained though it did nothing to stop Castiel from getting up. Robert Plant’s voice was cut off and only seconds later the silence was filled by Dean’s own voice. It was one of Lee’s songs, originally about going through withdrawal, though as the company had thought was too explicit the lyrics had been changed, enough to seem that it was withdrawl from some girl. Dean groaned as the song continued on and Cas had laid back down.

“You’re very good.” Castiel commented, causing Dean to look back at the other.

Dean’s eyes immediately met Cas’s and as they laid there, nothing but the music and their breaths filling the silence, Dean wished he could spend the rest of his life, nowhere else but next to the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning everyone! I hope you're all having a lovely day, and enjoyed the chapter!  
> This is kinda of a filler one?? I guess?? to focus on Dean and Cas's relationship development???  
> I guess I'm calling this one a filler chapter because it's happy...   
> I don't know this isn't my favourite chapter, I don't know if I like how it came out, but oh well, not everything can be perfect  
> Once again I hope you're all doing great!  
> lots of love, Paige


	14. Chapter thirteen

“Have a good day kids, don’t get in any fights, eat all your lunch, I’ll be here to pick you up,” Dean said, his one arm rested on the back rest of his seat, as he watched John get out of the car. The boy only gave a small wave, though Dean took it, at least he was acnologying that Dean existed. “Are you getting out?” He asked, after John had closed the car door, and Ellie hadn’t moved. 

“No,” she raised her fist, coughing loudly into it. “I’m sick,”

“Are you sure?” She made another fake cough, followed by a sniffle. It was the fakest, most bare minimum act Dean had ever seen, though he really couldn’t care enough to convince her to go, it was the third Friday of kindergarten, what would she be missing, colouring, and sing alongs. “So if your dad asks when he gets home, you’re still going’ta be sick?”

She nodded, giving the loudest cough she could muster, “well then I guess you’re sick.”

When they got back to the apartment Dean dropped his coat onto the table, before digging through Ellie's backpack for her lunch. “Do you want anything to eat?” Dean yelled to the young girl who had run off to the couch, already flipping through the channels. 

“No!”

“Are you sure?” 

“I want a tea party!” Dean sighed, he pulled open the refrigerator door throwing in the lunchbox, before he slammed it shut.

“You have one set up in your room.”

“I want you to come”

Dean's mouth gaped open, as he stared at the young girl. “You want me to come to your tea party?” Dean asked, which Ellie nodded to, giving him a look as if it had been the most obvious thing ever. His eyes glanced across her face, studying her soft feature that could easily be seen with her haired pulled. He waited for her to take the offer back though when she never did he finally allowed himself to smile. “Of course.”

Together they walked to Ellie's room, where they both sat at the small table, Ellie on one of the chairs, while Dean sat on the floor. He couldn’t help but smile as Ellie asked for tea, Dean nodding, pouring the invisible liquid into her small plastic cup. He then continued to do the same for the stuffed animals that sat on the rest of the chairs, each one with their own plastic cup. “Cheers? “ Dean asked, he raised his cup, pinky finger out. 

Ellie giggled, lifting up her own cup and attempting to mimic the way Dean had raised his pinky. “Cheers,” she replied, clicking their cups together. 

“So, Miss.Winchester,” Dean asked. He raised his voice lightly as he talked, before taking a dramaticized sip from the plastic cup. “How has work been?”

“Crazy!” She replied, she placed down her cup to raise her hands, shaking them around. “The man keeps, he keeps, the man wants the paper. H-he needs the paper, for the briefcase. The office is goin’ crazy.”

Dean laughed as Ellie talked. She was mimicking Sam and his own latest work problems, the case he had been writing up taking much more time than he had expected. He had been complaining about at least once a day, spending every free hour he got, at work, and home editing it, or reading it out to Dean to find mistakes. 

“Wow, there must be lot’s of pressure from your boss.”

“Yah! My Bob’s going crazy too!”

He lifted the cup to his lips, taking another sip. As the silence fell Dean’s smile dropped, the muffled sounds of screaming, becoming clear. “What?” Dean muttered. He placed the tea cup down, as he stood up from the ground, walking slowly to the wall where Ellie’s bed was pushed against. He leant closer, the noises becoming more clear the closer he got until he had his ear pressed to it, the words loud but muffled except for the occasional swear. 

“They do that alot, Daddy says the walls are sin.” 

Dean lifted his head from the wall, looking over to Ellie. She hadn’t even turned her head, instead pouring herself another glass of tea. “How often?” He asked, though Ellie didn’t respond, clicking her cup against her stuffed animals. “Ellie? How often do they fight?”

“I don’t know time!”

“Fine, how many sleeps?”

“Maybe two- or… did I say three?”

A loud crash came through the wall, at the same time Dean pushed himself away, stumbling over a few toys that scattered the floor. “I’m-” Dean began still watching the wall. It had gone silent, and frankly Dean would have prefered some kind of noise, any indication that things were okay. “I’ll be back, I just- I’ve gotta do something.”

He stumbled through the apartment hall, back through the kitchen, and into the building hallway, where he stopped in front of Castiel’s apartment door. He raised his fist hesitating over the wood. He couldn’t hear anything, and for a second he’d wondered if he’d imagined the noise, had the withdrawal gotten that bad within only a day. Dean exhaled before he harshly knocked on the door. “Hey?” Dean yelled, “Cas?” 

After a second the door was pulled open, revealing a very annoyed looking Logan. “What the hell!” he yelled. He quickly closed his mouth though, as he seemed to realize what he had done. “Sorry Dean- it's- it’s been a rough morning,” he said through a half laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You know how work gets.”

“Uh yah- totally get it- work- rough mornings-” Dean lent to the right to see over the man's shoulder, though he could only get a glance of their living room before Logan closed the door enough that only he could be seen. “is Cas here?”

Logan frowned. “Uhh- yes, but he’s busy with Jack.” He paused, eyes glancing across Dean’s face, “why do you need him?” 

“Uh-,” Dean took a slow breath in. “We’re supposed to go for ice cream tonight and I wanted to make sure that's still happenin’,” He lied. Dean took another slow breath, once again attempting to look over Logan’s shoulder and into the apartment, though all he could see was their pristine white furniture. His eyes darted back to Logan and for a second he wondered if he could push through the man. Would he win in a fight, they were the same height, though after years of cocaine use, physical strength was never his strong point. 

“You came over at eight in the morning to ask that?”

Dean laughed awkwardly. “Fuck no- not completely, I, uh.” He glanced from Logan to Sam's slightly opened door. “I really, really, needed… some- Sugar, for my tea party.”

“You have tea parties?”

“Of course, you don’t?”

“I’m going to get you some sugar.” Logan declared, giving Dean an odd look before he disappeared into the apartment, returning seconds later with a cup full of sugar, which he gave to Dean. 

“Thanks man. Could you tell Cas I was looking for him?

“Sure.”

~~~

Sam got home a little past four that night, and the moment the kids were done saying there hellos, Dean was there, pestering him with questions. “Why, didn’t you tell me?” Sam raised an eyebrow, his jacket not even off. He had only just placed his briefcase onto the table. 

Sam sighed, “tell you what?” He took a seat at the kitchen table, Dean following suit. Sam looked exhausted, his hair no longer long but messy, his beard growing in a similar mess. It was a problem, though one that Dean would have to focus on at another time, at that moment he had more important problems to solve.

“About Cas and Logan.” 

“What about them?” 

Dean stared at Sam, waiting for his brother to show the same anger that he felt. “I heard them fighting,” he explained, though Sam’s expression didn’t change, only holding the same exhaustion. Dean grit his teeth. “Ellie said it happens a lot.”

“It’s none of our business.” 

There was a pause in conversation, Sam pushing his hair behind his ears while Dean waited for a further explanation. “It’s none of our business? Cas’s our friend!” Dean cried. “Of course it's our business! Is that how Cas broke his arm?” 

“I don't know Dean!” Sam snapped. “I don’t know. Cas has talked about it a bit with me, but it's complicated.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing really, but it was obvious.”

“How long?”

“Since ’i've lived here.”

Dean tightened his hands into fists, his blood prcatilly boiling with anger. The same kind that came when he’d been through withdrawal for a little too long, or a report made a border line homophbic comment. “Can we fucking kill him?” Dean spat.

“Dean.”

“fine, could we sue him?”

“We can’t, Castiel maybe, but it doesn’t matter, physcological-” Sam hesitated for a second, seeming to be unable to continue. “Mental abuse cases are hard enough when you have therapy records, and even then courts rarely take them seriously, unless it’s involved in a custody battle, then you may get somewhere.”

“Okay, then what about Jack's custody?”

Sam shook his head, “legally, he's completely Cas’s”

“What about abuse towards Jack?”

“From my understanding Cas keeps him out of things- Dean I have work to do, can we please drop it.”

“Well what about-”

“Dean, I told you!” Sam cried, “this isn’t our problem, there’s nothing we can do except be there for him when he needs us!”

Dean stood, a crash following as his chair fell back to the floor. “I'm going out,” he declared.

“Dean,” Sam said in his concerned tone. The only tone he seemed to speak in since Dean had arrived, the worry clear in his expression.

He grabbed his keys, shoving them into his jeans pocket, before he checked his other for his phone. “Not for that,” Dean mumbled. No matter how much he wished it was, even if it had only been only a day since his last use, it was a day too long, a day too long away from the euphoria, stuck instead with depression and exhaustion. “I’m getting ice cream with Cas.”

“Oh- have fun.”

“Yah, you too bitch.”

The smallest smile spread across Sam’s face, “jerk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> throw back to early April when I was going to give Cas a healthy relationship!  
> Anyways I hope you're all having a great day! It's almost June and even if a lot of things are canceled I'm still super excited for pride month!  
> Lots of love, Paige


	15. Chapter fourteen

It was later that night, the late september air barely containing a chill, while the park they had just stepped into covered them in the unusual darkness that seemed impossible to find in New York. Even if the park seemed like a different world, there were still the smallest signs of the city, the hazy sky that was never clean enough to show the stars. The distant sound of traffic, and of course the garbage that scattered the path.

That was the thing Dean hated most about New York, there was no getting away from it.

He brought the spoon slowly to his lips as they walked, the taste of rocky road ice cream filling his mouth. In front of them Jack ran with his own bowl of ice cream.

"Did you like the movie?" Dean asked. Cas hummend in question, looking over to Dean, through the darkness the small features of his face were unnoticeable, only his sharp noise, and smile as he looked at Dean. "From a few nights ago?"

"Oh," Cas nodded in understanding, "it was odd, I don't understand why the car flew at the end."

Dean smiled, they walked close enough that at times Dean could feel the other's trench coat, hear his quiet breaths. So close that if Dean moved his hand even the slightest, it would graze across Castiel's. "I don't really get it either, lots of people suggest they're dead and that's them going to heaven or some bullshit like that but I don't know."

"It seems like lazy writing."

"Right!" Dean cried in agreeance. "Lot's of old movies are like that, new movies aren't much better, they're all just fucking remakes and sequels."

Cas laughed, looking away from Dean for the first time since they'd stepped into the park and to the ground, a smile still resting across his lips. "I did have fun though." Cas said, his words seeming to hang for a second through the silent park, weighing down on Dean's heart

"Me too," He replied softly, glancing away from Castiel for barely a second before he looked back, He wanted to stare at the other man, be even closer, where he could see every shade of blue in his eyes and the exact details of his lips. "Are you-" Dean hesitated for a second, "Are you free another weekend to watch another one?"

"Next weekend?"

"Awesome!" Dean said, "Star trek?"

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, though the sudden screaming cut him off. Both men looked up to the path in front of them, and to Jack who was running towards them sobbing. "Daddy!" He screamed running to Cas in tears.

"What is it bee?" Cas asked, as he crouched down so he sat at the same height as his son.

"My- My," Jack began through sobs. "My ice cream falled!"

"I told you to be careful." 

"Daddy!" Jack sobbed again, grabbing at Cas's arm and shaking it. "More pwease!"

"We don't have more."

"He can have mine" Dean offered

Both Cas and Jack looked up to Dean, Jack already frantically nodding his head. He let go of Cas's arm, and ran to Dean, looking up at him. "You don't have to Dean."

"Really, it's fine." Dean handed Jack his bowl of ice cream, the child screaming in excitement.

"What do we say Jack?"

"Thanks you!"

Jack put a spoonful of the ice cream, before running to a bridge up ahead, Dean and Cas following close behind. It was small, only a foot or so above the creek it arched over. Jack had stopped at the beginning of it, and instead had crouched down the water, with one arm raised in an attempt to attract one of the ducks. Dean and Cas continued walking until they reached the top of the arch where they stopped, both resting their elbows on the railing.

"Daddy, ducks!" Jack called pointing at the ducks. He still was at the creek side, though he had moved further away from the bridge and closer to the ducks that floated in it. "Tweet, tweet."

"No bee," Cas called, leaning over the railing light. "Remember ducks make quack, quack, birds make tweet tweet." Jack didn't see to hear or care as he continued to make the tweeting noise at the ducks

"He's cute." Dean hummened as Cas stopped leaning over the railing, sighing at his son's lack of listening. Cas nodded in agreement. "Did you guys adopt him?" Deans asked, "I mean if you don't mind me asking, you don't have to answer."

"It's fine," Castiel said. He looked up to Dean, the smallest smile on his lips. As their eyes met Deans suddenly became aware of just how close they stood. Their shoulders pressed together, elbows just brushing together with very small shifts. Dean could almost lean in, maybe If he was high he'd have the courage to.

Their gaze didn't shift until Dean could no longer hold it, his heart hammering too fast. Instead he looked out to the river below them.

"It's slightly complicated," Castiel began, his own gaze traveling from Dean and to his son. "He was my older brother. I wasn't told the full story but I know the had cops come, and arrested him.." Castiel took a deep breath, "While they were there they also took Jack due to neglect. Jack's mother had died during labour, so they called my family, and I was the only who had offered."

"Does he ever see your brother?"

Cas shook his head, "he's in jail, and I don't see visiting him worth it."

"I'm sorry."

Cas looked back to Dean, tilting his head slightly, "Why are you apologizing. It isn't your fault?"

"Cause I understand, families shitty but you still love them, which just makes everything shittier."

"Sam told me about your parents."

Dean could've sworn his heart stopped, his breath hitching in his throat. "What- what did he say about them."

"how your mother passed when you were young, and your father a few years go."

"So you know however shitty your family is, mines ten times worse on a good day."

Cas gave a small laugh, Dean smiling at the other. "When I was young we went to sea world." Cas began explain, Dean watching as Cas looked down to creek. His expression was calm, his body posture much the same, as if going for Friday walks was a common occurrence. Something they'd always done and would continue to do. Standing close, under the moon light, alone in the park, so close that Dean could lean in if he'd wanted to "My father, I still don't understand why, had thought it would be a good idea to hold me over one of the tanks, then dropped me into the orca tank because my sister needed her shoe tied."

Dean laughed as Cas, grimaced at the memory. "We'd just moved so we'd been unpackin' and I dropped a box on my foot and broke my toe." Dean paused for a second, thinking back to the memory, they'd just moved to a small town in Ohio, Dean only ten and Sam two years younger. "My dad made me walk to the hospital cause his fucking record player was in the box and it broke.

"That's awful."

"That was John Winchester for ya."

Castiel looked to Dean, giving him the smallest smile, which he returned, elating his eyes linger on Castiel's for longer then he should've. He slowly exhaled before looking back down to the creek. A few ducks lazily floating on it, occasionally bobbing their heads under. Dean didn't make another attempt at conversation, he enjoyed the silence, it wasn't awkward or stuffy but peaceful. Their shoulder pressed together as Dean watched a particularly small duck bob his head down. Of course the silence couldn't last forever and soon it was being interrupted by the creaking of wood as Jack ran towards them. "Daddy!" He said, "I finised." He lifted the empty bowl to Cas, giving it a small shake. "More?"

"You've already had two bowls."

"Pwease Daddy." Jack begged, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. "more!"

"We don't have anymore!" Tears continued to roll down Jack's cheeks as he sobbed. Cas instead turned to Dean, an apologetic look across his face. "I'm so sorry," he explained, "It's past his bedtime and he's exhausted."

"Cas it's fine kids cry." Dean said in an attempt to reassure his friend, though Cas didn't seem convinced. "Let's just go back?"

Cas crouched down somehow managing to pick up his screaming son with his just one arm, and hold him against his hip. "I'm so sorry Dean," Cas repeated, though this time he was looking at Jack, bouncing him lightly, though it did nothing to sooth Jack's sobs.

"Really, it's not a big deal."

They didn't talk for the first few minutes as they wandered back through the park and onto the streets. Dean only clearing his throat when he was sure Jack had fallen asleep. "Jack really took a liking to your cast," Dean commented, glancing down to Cas's arm. Across the white material dark scribbles were drawn, most black though there was mix of blues and greens at times.

"He had insisted it would make it look nicer, I'm afraid he was wrong." Dean hesitated with what to say next, not wanting to pressure his friend but not able to hold it back any longer, Sam wouldn't tell him everything and Dean needed to know.

"you broke it at the subway right?" Castiel hesitated for a second but nodded, "you're shit at lying!" Dean cried.

"Pardon me?" Castiel stopped walking, staring up at Dean in shock. Underneath the street light his eyes were casted in shadows, his lips pressed together in a tight line. "I don't understand-"

"You said you broke your arm falling down the stairs!"

Castiel's lips parted. A hot breath burned across Deans cheeks, his eyes dancing across just how close Castiel and him were, their noses almost touching. Dean could see a faint scar across the others cheek, something he hadn't noticed till now.

"At the subway." Castiel finally whispered. His voice was monotone, blue eyes piercing as he started at Dean's.

Dean glances down to the others lips, then back to Castiel's eyes. Despite the cold September air, Dean was on fire, his skin burning, heart racing. He couldn't decide if he wanted to step closer or back.

"You said you were carrying groceries."

"From the subway."

"Cas stop lying."

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

"Dea-" Castiel was caught off as Jack began stirring in his arms. "It's okay bee," he whispered to his son, running a hand across Jack's messy hair.

As Cas soothed Jack Dean took a step back, allowing some space between them, and for himself to breath. "Is he-" Castiel nodded. He pulled his son closer, if that was possible, pressing a kiss to his forward.

"We should go back." Cas whispered, which Dean nodded to.

The rest of the walk was done in silence, only broken by the occasional car, or couple passing. Dean instead giving Cas quick glances at any chance got. He couldn't bring himself to speak, he'd never been good when it came to being vulnerable, whether that meant him or someone else, but it was Cas, and he wanted to make everything okay. He thought over what he was going to say, through the whole ten blocks, and by the time they'd stopped outside their buildings front door, he'd come up with nothing.

Dean looked to Cas, his features only lit by the lobby light casting shadows across most of his face. Despite that his frown was clear. Dean took a deep breath, followed by a second before he opened his mouth to speak. "Was it Logan."

"Dean, I don't und-"

"Did he push you."

Castiel started at Dean, eyes not moving. He stood frozen for longer than Dean would have thought possible, before hesitantly speaking. "I don't see how that involves you."

"Come on Cas I'm your friend, stop being like this."

"We've known each other for a month, I hardly think you could consider us friends."

Castiel had spoken so flatly, so filled with spite, that Dean had no response. Only able to watch as the other man walked into the lobby. Cas didn't glance back, and Dean didn't look away watching until the other had disappeared up the staircase entrance.

"Fuck," Dean mumbled, running his hands across his face. He could still picture Cas's burning stare, the usual blue almost black again the light. His stare not faltering for a second, shoulders pushed back, giving him such a perfect posture, that he and Cas were almost the same height.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Dean screamed as he lent back against the brick building. His hands stopped at his hairline, grabbing at the longer strands and tugging at them infrustration. "Fuck me!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone!   
> This is the last chapter for this week, the next will be coming out on Monday! so I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Also I know I say this pretty much in every not but thank you so much for reading and comment! This book has over 300 reads which is insane to me! So thank you so much! it means the absolute world!   
> I hope you all have lovely weekends! It's exactly a week until me birthday (June 5th) so im kinda just going going to spend it freaky out!  
> Lot's of love, Paige


	16. Chapter fifteen

“-And nothing else matters.”

“Never cared for what they do.”  
“Never cared for what they know.”  
“But I know.”  
“So close, no matter how far.”  
“It couldn't be much more from the heart-”  
“Metallica?” Dean’s gaze moved from his guitar and to his brother, who’d just stepped onto the deck. Sam placed a mug next Dean, giving him an uncertain look before taking a seat on the other chair with his own mug. “Shouldn’t you be writing your own songs?” 

He shrugged, running his hand slowly across his guitar. The wood smooth to the touch, every ingrave, and small dent. At the bottom just below where the strings ended his name had been carved in perfect cursive. Slowly Dean put it down at his feet before picking up the hot mug, wrapping his fingers around it in an attempt to warm them. 

“Didn’t think you listened to Metallica.” Dean took a small sip from the mug, grimacing at the hot coffee, “thought you were all Taylor swift, and Katy Perry.” 

Dean could practically hear the eye roll from his brother, as a small smirk played at his own lips. 

A peaceful silence fell between them though it lasted little under two minutes before Sam cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. “Is everything alright with you?” Other than the fact that it had almost been three days since he had last gotten high, and the cravings were all he could think about. The bruises on his arm became increasingly itchy, while his skin froze, and his body ached with something that couldn’t be described as completely physical. Or more importantly that’d been little over two weeks since him and Castiel’s fight, and he hadn’t seen the man since.

Though all those thoughts crossed his mind Dean didn’t say anything, instead looking down to the mug that rested in his hands. Most if the mug was white, expect for the bottom half where a small field of flowers had been painted by Jess. She had painted all their mugs, some with small bubbles, others as sunsets. Sam had originally wanted to sell them when Dean had first arrived, though after the first one was sold he had quickly changed his mind.

“Dean?”

He looked up to Sam. His eyes darted across his brother's worried expression for barely a second before moving to something easier to look at, the street below. Sitting in almost silence, the kind that only came with Saturday mornings. 

“I’m fine!’ Dean said, “Why wouldn’t I be. My life’s fucking great.”

“Dude- Nothing else matters? That’s Dean Winchester’s version of an emotional break.” 

Dean sighed, he took another sip from his coffee before placing it onto the glass end table. “Don’t you have counseling on Saturday?” 

“I cancelled a few nights ago.“

“You’re a son of a bitch”

Sam shook his head in what Dean could only assume was in disappointment, “and you’re avoiding my question.”

“And you still have a fucking cat taped to your face!” Dean cried, gesturing towards Sam’s beard. It made him look old, much older then twenty six, with his sunken brown eyes, and ashen skin that hadn’t quite returned to its usual tanned tone. 

“Dean!”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath, glancing to the wall that separated Sam’s deck from Castiel’s. “I asked Cas about Logan.” Sam opened his mouth to talk, though Dean quickly cut him off, “I know! You told me not to but I’d be a shit friend if I didn’t do somethin’, now Cas won’t even talk t’me! It’s like I killed the guy or somethin’.”

“You shouldn’t have said anything”

“I know,” Dean sighed, pressing his hands to his face and leaning his head back, letting out a dramatic groan. “I don’t get why I’m the one being punished!”

He could hear the shuffling of his brother, followed by the soft clinging of the mug being placed on the table top. “Could you stop being dramatic for at least five minutes?” With his hands still to his face Dean shook his head. “Well I told you to stay out of things, and maybe if you would listen to me for once you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this mess!” 

“I didn’t fucking ask for an I told you so,” Dean snapped. He sat up properly, green eyes glaring at his brother, who stared back in the same frustration. Neither spoke until Dean took a deep breath, letting his harsh glare falter. “Why don’t ch’you want t’help him?”

Sam’s own expression fell, his brown eyes wide as he looked to Dean. “Of course I want to Dean,” Sam said, his voice containing a slight pain to it, “I’ve tried.”

“What did he tell you?”

“What?”

“You said he talked to you.”

Dean didn’t look away, even when his brother glanced down, Sam taking a hesitant breath before speaking. “One day, about a year ago- I don’t know things must’ve gotten really bad cause Cas showed up at my apartment and asked me to take Jack for a bit. Jess, and I, neither of us thought much of it; we'd heard the yelling, lots before then, but it never occurred to us until Cas came back for Jack.” 

Sam took another hesitant breath looking up to Dean, this time Dean’s own gaze dropping. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, the chill of the October air blowing across his bare arms, though it wasn’t the reason for the cold feeling that took over. He forced down a breath, despite the lump in his throat, allowing himself one more breath before he looked back to his brother. “He looked awful, exhausted, and I don’t know it kinda just clicked after, he didn’t need to say anything, and I’m pretty sure he knew we figured it out.”

“I tried to help more after that, I offered to take Jack, but Cas doesn’t trust anyone with him. The more I tried, the less I saw him, and the worse things got.”

Dean shifted slightly in his seat, as the silence fell between them. Thick and suffocating as the facts that Dean had begged so long for, were laid out in front of him. 

The silence ticked on, for one breath.

For one heart beat.

And then another, and another. The silence becoming almost too toxic to sit in. Dean wanting to say something, though the words never seeming to part his lips. 

“Dean,” Sam finally began, “he doesn’t need you to play hero, he can handle things on his own.”

“But he doesn’t have to!”

Sam’s face dropped slightly, whether in shock, or exhaustion Dean couldn’t tell, or be exactly sure why it happened. “You amaze me.”

“Thank you?” Dean questioned. He gave his brother a confused look, only getting a shake of Sam’s head in response. 

“Just be there for him, that’s the best thing we can.”

Dean nodded in understanding. He picked up the mug once again bringing it back to his lips and taking a small sip of the coffee, the bitter taste harsh. The conversation died out and instead both brother’s watching the traffic below, sipping their drinks, until Dean’s mug was half empty, and the silence had become boring.

“You know,” Dean began, getting the attention of his brother.” You’ve grown wise since that cat showed up on your face.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to start by saying thank you so much for reading!  
> And Happy pride month everyone!  
> I hop you take this time to love yourself, and continue to support not only big corporations and creators but your smaller queer and trans creators! Especially who are ever colour, it's more important than ever!  
> I also hope you all have an amazing month, and hopefully are able to celebrate with tsomeone who accepts you, I'm here for you if you don't  
> Overall I hope you all are staying safe, and have a great month.
> 
> let's also take this time to remember prides history: THE FIRST ONE WAS A RIOT! (began by trans women of colour)
> 
> Lot's of love, Paige


	17. Chapter sixteen

The rest of October had flown by much the same as September, filled with Dean’s regular schedule of dropping the kids off, working on music, picking the kids up, and in the mix of it all, getting high. Whether that be late at night in some club, on the floor of Sam’s shower or during the day when he was alone in the apartment. Which was more often than not. Though the steady routine made things seem faster and soon enough it was October 31st, and little over a month since him and Castiel had last talked. 

It was just past five pm when Dean stood in the kitchen behind Ellie. The young girl was sat on the kitchen table facing Dean, the fake fairy wings she’d worn now resting next to her. “I don’t want to!” She cried, giving Dean the hardest glare she could muster. Causing her lips to pucker out, it would’ve been almost cute if Dean hadn't been so frustrated. 

He grit his teeth, as Ellie continued her glare, “Yes you do!” Dean cried back, he pointed the hairbrush at his niece, giving her a glare. “Now let me pull your fudgin’ hair back” 

“No!”

“Then you ain’t Tinkerbell!”

Ellie continued to glaree. “But I am Tinkerbell!” She whined. 

Dean shook his head, “No, you ain't,” he raised his voice slightly as he spoke. “Tinkerbell wears her hair in a bun.”

Ellie let her glare falter and instead her eyes darted across Dean’s face until she gave a defeated look and turned around. “Took you long enough,” Dean mumbled. He began brushing out her hair carefully, having seen her scream at Sam for being too harsh and frankly not wanting the same treatment. “Did you have fun on our bike ride today?” Dean asked. 

“I liked not going to school,” She attempted to look at Dean as she spoke, though with his free hand Dean kept her head looking forward.

“Did you like our bike ride?

“Remember- remember the ducks,” She explained, giggling “They liked me! but not John.”

“They really didn’t like John.”

Dean titled Ellie’s head down, beginning to brush her up, and into his other hand. With a hand holding her hair, Dean grabbed one of the many elastics slowly attempting to tie it the way he had seen other women do it. “And we’re done!” Dean declared. He walked around to the other side of the table to see the results, though his smile quickly dropped as he faced Ellie. Strands of her brown hair fell across her forehead, most now a tangled knot, while the bun Dean had attempted flopped to the right, if you could even consider it a bun. 

Dean tilted his head slightly, hoping that maybe it would look good from a different angle, though no matter how much he tilted his head, it did nothing to make her hair better. “Sam!” Dean finally yelled, standing properly. 

“Yah?” Sam called, there was a small shuffling before he walked out of the bathroom, stopping just at the end of the hallway. “What d- Where’s your costume?”

Dean looked down to his led zeppelin t-shirt just showing under his unzipped leather jacket, paired with his dark blue jeans. “This is my costume, I’m Robert Plant!”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Says Peter Pan,” Dean cried, gesturing to his brother's costume. A bright green shirt, and jean pants that he’d managed to find in the exact same shade, matched with the classic green hat. “You know he doesn’t have a beard, might have to shave that son of a b-” Dean glanced to Ellie, “ird?” 

“I’m not shaving.”

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s stubbornness. “Ellie,” Dean asked, “do you think your dad looks like a hobo?” 

Ellie looked to her dad for a second, before looking back up at Dean. “Yah,” she cried with a smile. “Daddy’s a hobo! Daddy’s a hobo,” Ellie continued to chant. 

“Fine,” Sam threw his hands in the air, turning to walk back to the bathroom, “I’ll shave! ” 

Dean watched his brother walk away until his eyes fell back to Ellie, “Wait!” Dean called, “How do I do Ellie’s hair. 

“Youtube!”

Dean sighed but did as his brother suggested, pulling out his phone to a youtube tutorial, and clicking on the first video that showed up. After multiple attempts, and a few under the breaths swears, Dean got the last elastic in her hair, using a few clips to hold loose strands into place. He took a step back, a grin spreading across his face, it wasn't perfect but it would do. “Fuck yah!” Dean cried, “Want t’see?” 

“Yah!” Dean lifted the small hand mirror Ellie had brought, allowing her to look her hair, “Fuck yah!” Ellie cried

At first Dean laughed though the moment he realized what she said his smile quickly dropped. “No!” He said, “don’t say that!”

“Fuck yah!” she repeated, giggling as she looked away from the mirror and to Dean’s horriffied expression, “Fuck yah.

“Ellie.”

“Fuck yah.”

“I’m serious.”

“Fuck yah!”

“If you say that one more time you won't be goin’ trick or treatin’!” Dean snapped

Ellie’s wide smile immediately dropped, her eyebrows furrowing and lips puckering out in a dramatic pout. “You’re mean!”

“I know.”

Ellie pushed herself from the table, once she'd gotten her balance immediately running to the couch to sulk. “John!” Dean called, “can you come here, I need to do your makeup!” Dean watched Ellie, the girl just a stubborn as her dad as she sat still. Arms crossed, and her lips still sitting in a pout. Dean only looked away when he heard the sound of John’s footsteps. “Hey,” Dean greeted. He turned, his frown dropping slightly as he saw John’s face already painted like a skeleton’s, behind him Sam walked, his face for the first time since Dean had arrived, shaved, nothing but a small stubble. 

“You took a really long time with Ellie’s,” Sam said, which Dean rolled his eyes at. 

While Sam began helping his kids with last minute touches, John’s gloves, a ribbon around Ellie’s hair, and both their baskets, Dean pulled his phone out. Opening up Twitter and scrolling through his feed, though soon becoming bored and switching to his instagram. His notifications were filled though Dean ignored them instead going to his inbox where one notification lit. Lee, he decided to ignore it.

“Are you guys ready to go trick or treating.” Sam’s asked. Dean kept his head down, he left instagram going to his messages, there were multiple from Crowley, he decided to ignore those as well. 

“Fuck yah!” 

Dean's head immediately shot up, looking to the young girl who was now stood at the doorway. “Ellie!” Sam cried, first looking down at his daughter in shock, and then to Dean, the shock quickly becoming anger. “Dean!”

“I think it’s time to go trick or treating!” Dean declared. He shoved his phone into his jean’s pocket before walking quickly passed his brother and into the hallway, making his way to the staircase at the end of the hall, like Ellie had told him that morning. She’d been incredibly insistent that they start at the bottom of the apartment, like they did every year.

Soon both Ellie and John had ran in front of him, and into the stairwell, leaving Dean to walk with his brother. “Remember trick or treatin’ as a kid?” Dean asked as they walked down the stairwell, John and Ellie already half way down.

“I remember you dragging me across town to get candy from the rich neighbourhood only for the gates to be locked.”

“Hey! We got in next year.”

“You spent the whole year digging a hole under the fence!”

Dean smiled at his brother, “and we had full sized chocolate bars for months.” Dean paused for a second before continuing. “You were so cute, always wanting to dress up as Batman.” They stepped into the hallway, where John and Ellie were already knocking on a door, Ellie screaming trick or treat on the top of her lungs. From the corner of Dean’s eye he could see Sam frown in confusion. 

“I never dressed up as Batman?”

“Cause i’m Batman, and your whiny ass couldn’t figure that out!” 

They continued to follow the kids from door to door, talking as they did, discussing their favourite costumes of each others, or the time Sam had eaten maybe one to many chocolate bars. Until they got into the apartment lobby, where Sam got the kids to stop so he could grab mail. 

Dean lent against the wall, as his brother began digging through his pockets for his keys, Ellie at his side complaining that he was taking too long. Dean pulled his phone out, flipping through it until someone in front of him cleared their throat. “Excuse me?”

The moment Dean looked up his eyes fell to the woman before him, at first her face, only seconds later his gaze dropped to her chest, and then across the rest of her body. Her pale skin covered only by a white lacy lingerie, causing her bright red hair to stand out even further. “Are you Dean Winchester?” 

“I am, and you are?”

She raised a hand, and finally Dean looked back up to her face. Eyes darting across her delicate features, the smirk that grazed her bright red lips, the few strands of tight curls that fell in her face and the white halo headband she wore, matching her lingerie. Dean gently took her hand in his, giving it the smallest shake as she stepped closer.

“Jo,” she replied, their hand shake lingered for a second before the woman slowly brought her hand back, her bright eyes dropping down Dean’s body then back to his face. “I know you must have lots of plans tonight.” Her voice was low, and as she paused, Dean’s gaze once again dropped. Studying the skin she’d made no attempt to hide, her slim waist, smooth thighs, breasts, where his eyes lingered for a second before he lent out what he hoped was a steady breath and looked back to her face. “But a few of us are going to Balazather’s tonight, and if the rumors are true, i’m sure it’s a party you’ll enjoy.”

“I don’t kn-

Dean’s heart seemed to stop as his gaze went from Jo to just over her shoulder where he could see the entrance of the main staircase. A small boy appearing, dressed as a bee, then Logan, and finally Cas, wearing his usual trench coat. He looked the same, of course it’d only been two weeks since Den had last seen him, but it felt like years. A small smile had spread across his face as Sam stepped away from the mail boxes to talk to the couple Ellie’s whines becoming even louder. Dean’s breath hitched as Cas looked from Sam to Dean, his smile immediately droppinging, Dean stared back, braely for a breath before his gaze went back to Jo.

“Actually,” this time Dean stepped closer, leaving less than an inch between them, close enough that he could smell the perfume off of her, and see the faintest dust of glitter that covered her cheeks. Feel the warmth of her skin. Dean glanced once again over her shoulder, though he didn’t meet Cas’s eyes as the other had quickly looked down to Jack.

Dean let his eyes linger once again down her body, before slowly raising his hand, using it to brush a strand of red her hair behind her ear. “What time should I be there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start y wishing you all a happy Wednesday and that I hope you're having an amazing week!  
> Now I also want to say that you've all probably herd of the link before but here it is againhttps://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/ I urge you, please take some time and sign a few petitions it takes under a minute to sign one, they also give you some fantastic sources to donate if you have money or don't, and some sources to help educate yourself!  
> Please take some time out of your day and check it out!  
> Take care of yourself!  
> Lot's of love, Paige


	18. Chapter seventeen

Trigger warning: mentions of abuse

Dean groaned, burying his face further into the pillow. His whole body ached in exhaustion, every inch burning as if he had been lit on fire, licking across his finger tips, burning hotter with every racing heart beat. Despite the heat of his skin, he was freezing, even under the weight of blankets. He couldn’t breath, not without one more hit. Not that he even wanted to if he wasn’t high. 

Dean raised a hand running it across his face, then letting it fall to his chest. 

The moment his hand fell against skin instead of what should've been the fabric of his t-shirt, his eyes flew open meeting the white ceiling above. It was the same as Sam’s though all the other differences suddenly became much more clear. The heavy duvet on top of him instead of the normal scratchy blanket, the thick smell of perfume that was almost suffocating, and most of all, through the ringing of his ears, the low breath of another person.

Slowly Dean turned his head, holding his breath until the mess of red hair came into view. Jo’s eyes were fluttered shut, most of her face covered by her hair, while her body was covered by blankets. Though even with the blankets Dean could see her defined collar bones. He let out a low breath, slowly pushing himself from the mattress, and off of the bed. His eyes never leaving her, even as he collected his clothing from the previous night and pulled them on. 

Once he was fully dressed, he silently crept out of the bedroom, leaving the door open, in fear of waking the women, and through the rest of the apartment. His breathing didn’t become normal until the front door had been closed, and he had crumbled against the hall walls, his eyes squeezed closed. “Fuck,” Dean mumbled.

He rested his head back, letting a shaken breath part his lips. He couldn’t remember much from the night before, just leaving his brother and the kids as they sorted through the candy, then cocaine and alcohol. Throwing up, and then more cocaine. He didn’t remember returning with Jo, or the reason why his head spun so bad.

He let out another shaken breath before pushing himself from the wall, and beginning his walk down the apartment hallway and towards what must have been the lobby, where another man was. Dean continued to walk forward until the man’s messy hair had become unmistakable, and Dean had stopped only a few feet away. 

“Cas? He breathed out, getting the attention of the other man, who had been sorting through his mailbox. 

Castiel quickly stood up, his head turning at the sound of his name. He wore his usual trench coat, his pajamas just visible underneath, while his hair was messed, dark strands sticking up in odd places. Dean doubted he got much sleep either, Jack would’ve been on a sugar high all night. 

The moment Cas saw Dean he turned, walking as quickly as he could to the stairway, “no wait Cas.” Dean ran forward, running through the hall, and into the stairwell, “Cas,” He yelled again trying to get the other man to stop, though when he didn't, Dean reached out grabbing his wrist.

Castiel froze, only his head turning slightly to look at Dean. His blue eyes were wide, lips parted every so slightly, as he stared at Dean in fear. 

Deans grip quickly fell the moment he realized what he had done, his own eyes looking up at Cas in the panic, “Can we talk?” Dean asked, his voice barely above. His eyes darted across Cas’s face, waiting for a response though none came, Cas only continuing to stare in the same panic, “please, I need to talk to you.”

“I suppose,” Castiel finally whispered.

They stared at each other for a second before Dean slowly took a seat on the stairs, Castiel then following suit. “So,” Dean began awkwardly, “how’ve you been?”

“Fine?”

“What’ve you been up to?”

“Nothing?”

“Oh that’s- that’s awesome.” Dean nodded awkwardly. He looked down to his shoes, studying the torn fabric, and one untied lace, from when he quickly laced them up to get away from Jo. “I took Ellie and John bike riding yesterday, you know as a halloween celebration.”

“You know how to ride a bike?”

Dean looked up at Cas in shock, “You don’t?”

Castiel tilted his head to the side, shaking it slightly. His blue eyes were wide, looking up at Dean in curiosity, “I could- uh, I could teach you sometime, tomorrow if you’re free.”

“I would like that.” Castiel replied, the smallest smile across his lips.

Silence fell between them as Cas continued to stare at Dean, his blue eyes piercing, waiting for Dean to continue the conversation, though Dean couldn’t seem to open his mouth. His mind only thinking of the various small talk he could make, or the way they were close enough that could lean in and kiss the other. His eyes wandered down to Cas’s lips staying there for a second, studying his chapped lips, and the way they parted ever so slightly. 

“I should um- apologize.” Dean finally began, he took a deep breath, glancing across the others' faces. The bags across his eyes, the way his cheeks concaved just the slightest, and his tan skin that had become kissed by an ashen colour. Dean was never good at apologies, every inch of his body screaming to run, as he glanced from Cas’s face to the front entrance of the building. He wanted to run so bad, but Castiel deserved better than that. “You and Logan's relationship is none of my business.” 

“Dean, you have no reason to apologize, I was overreacting.” Castiel replied. He then pressed his lips in a tight line, his blue eyes staying on Dean. He sat almost frozen, his hands gripping the newspaper and envelope, his shoulders back in his usual perfect posture. 

He didn't move even when Dean shifted back, his own eyes glancing quickly from Castiel’s to the others lips. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Cas gave the smallest nod, his eyes continuing to stay on Dean’s. Even after shifting back they were still so close, Cas’s hot breath flairing across Dean’s cheeks, his face so close that Dean could reach up and trail his fingers across it, across his cheeks, and jaw, and down his neck. He could feel his heart racing, the heat still flaring through his body, though now Dean wasn’t sure it was from the withdrawal.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” 

“How’d you break your arm?”

Castiel hesitated for a second, “I'm unsure.”

“How can’t you be sure?”

Castiel glanced down to his arm, though it was no longer casted, his gaze staying there until he began to speak. “We were returning from the grocery store, when we began arguing. Things had gotten out of hand, and I thought- I assumed he had pushed me, but at the hospital he had been so kind, and when we arrived at home he insisted I had tripped.” Cas pressed his lips in a tight line looking back to Dean, his blue eyes wide. 

Dean shifted back further, until his back was pressed against the wall, though even still they were sat close enough that if they were both to lean in, they could easily reach each other. “Why don’t ch’you just leave him.” Dean asked.

“It isn’t that simple,” with his free hand, Cas pulled his trench coat closer to his body, hiding his grey pajama top, though the coat wasn’t long enough to hide his checkered pants. “I don’t have a job.” Cas began, his eyes no longer met Deans, instead looking anywhere else. His feet, the stairs, the wall, anything but Dean. “Or money. Everything in our bank account is under his name.”

“He’s a good person,” Castiel whispered, “he’s kind, and caring, he just-“ Dean felt his own stomach drop as Cas took a hesitant breath. “He occasionally has a temper. He doesn’t hit me often,” Cas explained, “only when things get bad.” 

“And I-” Cas paused, “I love him.” 

The words hung through the silent stairwell, and for a second Dean didn’t think he could breathe. His breath stuck in his throat as he watched Castiel, who still sat so emotionless and still. “What about Jack?” Dean finally asked.

“He is fine as long as Logan and I are together.”

“What the hell does that mean.”

If Dean hadn’t been watching Castiel’s face he would’ve missed the single tear that fell from his eyes, just beginning to roll down his cheek before his hand was there wiping it away. “Adoption is a complicated process.” Cas began, his blue eyes finally looking back at Dean, though his voice still contained an almost empty tone. “Between my work, meetings with the lawyer, and paperwork I wasn't often home, or able to participate in the things Logan wanted me there for.” Cas paused the only sound breaking the silence being their shallow breaths, and the sound of footsteps from the floor above. “One day, after I had missed his work banquet, he had told me- he said, that if Jack- if he got in the way of our life too often.” Cas squeezed his eyes shut, letting out another shaken breath before they fluttered open. “He would- he would take him, and not come back.”

“I don’t know if it was a joke or not, but-” Cas’s voice had lost it’s usual montone instead becoming shaky, “I can’t loose him, I- I can’t.”

“Jack- he is all I have.”

Dean could only stare at his friend, mouth gaped open in shock. Slowly he lent forward, bringing his arms around the other, and pulling Castiel into a tight hug. “It’s gonna be okay,” Dean mumbled, he pressed his face into the others shoulder, a musty old smell strong against the collar of his trench coat. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all having a lovely week, and a fantastic pride month!  
> This is going to be the last update for a bit, with lack of sleep, school, everything that's going on in the world, and more, my mental health has been spiralling and I honestly can't really imagine updating this book daily! So at the moment I'm going to be taking a break for the rest of this week and most likely the week to come!  
> I hope you all understand, and I hope you guys are taking care of yourselves as well!   
> anyways! enough about me! I hope you all have an amazing last half of the week, and have something that makes you smile!  
> I love you all so much   
> Paige


	19. Chapter eighteen

He was beautiful. Not in the way Dean would describe a woman, with delicate features, and elegant movements. No he was beautiful like the sun flaring across your cheeks on a summer day. Radiating a comfortable, perfect warmth. An endless calm, that made everything seem okay, an addictive feeling that seemed to leave Dean always wanting to be closer. He was not beautiful, his actions, his words, the emotions he brought to Dean were beautiful.

He was radiant.

Standing there, the early November light causing his skin to have a pale tone. While a smile spread wide across his face as he watched his son ride up and down the park paths.

“Daddy look!”

“I am Bee.”

Dean let his eyes linger on the other, a breath parting his lips, before he looked towards Jack. Ellie’s bike was slightly too big for him, though with the seat lowered and the training wheels Dean had bought it worked well enough. 

“I think it’s y’ur turn,” Dean hummened, a smile gazing at his lips as Cas gave the bike that Dean held a worried glance.

“I suppose so.”

Slowly Cas gripped the left handle, Dean continuing to hold the right one to keep the bike balanced. He watched as Castiel got on, the way the fabric of his blue t-shirt shifted, his body close enough that Dean could see just under the fabric. The beginning of his chest, and shoulders. His breath hitched, and for a moment Dean didn’t look away, until he felt Castiel shift, and his eyes quickly went back to the other man's face.

Even when Castiel took a seat Dean didn’t let go, keeping his hands firmly on the bike to keep it balanced. “Now you just pettle.” Cas looked towards Dean, tilting his head slightly.

“What do I do with my hands?”

“You just kinda- steer? Point where you want to go, and the bike’ll go.”

Cas’s confused expression didn’t falter as he looked at the other. They were close enough that Dean could see Castiel’s blue eyes, the colour seeming even more vibrant against the man’s pale skin. “You are an awful teacher.” Cas finally said.

“I'm an awesome teacher!”

“Point, and steer?” Castiel questioned.

“Fine!” Dean shifted his heart hammering harder as his arm brushed across Castiel’s, “How about I hold on while you peddle?” There was a moment of silence as Cas glanced between Dean and the handlebar before nodding in agreeance.

As they began down the path, Dean shifted constantly, attempting to keep the bike balanced, while not touching the other. Though no matter how held the handle bar, or where he walked, he never seemed far enough. Always able to hear the other breath’s, and feel each of Cas’s movements no matter how small they were. Sending his heart raising, and his cheks flaring. 

“Who taught you how to ride a bike?” Cas asked as they slowly turned around walking back the way they’d come. Dean looked ahead to Jack who’d gotten off the bike, and instead played with a stick.

“My mom,” Dean finally replied. He slowly removed one hand from the handle bar, letting it fall to his side though he left the other in place. “I was four or three.” 

“Did she teach Sam?”

“No, I taught him.” Dean glanced to the other, making sure Castiel wasn’t looking before he slowly removed his other hand. He stared at the other man as they slowly walked, the way he held his lips in a tight line as he concentrated, the way his blue eyes sparkled in the morning light. He wanted to stare forever. “Hey Cas.” Dean said. He tugged his jacket closed as a sharp wind blew.

“Yes Dean?” The man glanced towards Dean, his blue eyes at first going back to the path ahead though as he seemed to realize what Dean had done, his gaze was quickly brought back to dean. “Dean!” 

“You’re doin’ it!” Dean cried in response.

“Dean!” Cas cried again. He shook slightly as the bike gained speed. Dean picked up his own walking at the same pace, next to it. A laugh parted Dean’s lips as he watched Cas shake again, almost falling, though managing to gain his balance. “Dean,” Castiel insisted, “I’m going to fall.”

“You aren't,” Dean raised a hand, at first hesitant, though soon he brought it to Castiel’s back and kept it there as they continued along the path. “I’m not goin’t let you.”

They didn’t leave the park until the storm rolled in, bringing wind and sheets of rain, and even then they didn’t part ways and instead made their way back to Castiel’s apartment. Despite the rain, the walk back was peaceful. At some point Jack using his other hand to hold Dean’s as they walked, only letting go when they got to the apartment.

After letting go of Dean’s had the child tugged at Castiel’s trench coat, forcing his father to crouch. He lent forward, whispering something into Castiel’s ear that Dean couldn’t quite make out. “I don’t know bee,” Castiel replied to his son. He looked back up to Dean, the kind of smile across his face that sent Dean’s heart spiralling. “You should ask Dean yourself.”

Jack turned, looking up with his wide eyes, a look so similar to Castiel’s it was almost impossible to imagine that Jack wasn’t his. When Jack didn’t speak, Dean crouched to the child's height hoping it made him seem less intimidating. “Bean,” the child began, he had grabbed onto Dean’s sleeve to talk, though as he slightly rocked on his feet his eyes looked towards Castiel’s living room. “Maybe-” He paused, “can we play?”

Dean smiled down at the kid, then glanced up to Cas who’d stood up. “Sure kid,” Dean hummened, his smile only widening as Jack cheered, bouncing up and down in excitement. He slowly stood, his gazing fall back to Castiel and that adoring look across his face that always came when he watched Jack.

A breath parted Dean’s lips, one that must’ve been loud enough for Cas to hear as the other looked up to Dean, that wide smile still across his face, radiating warmth. “Is everything alright?” He opened his mouth to speak though when nothing came out, Dean nodded his head. 

Cas didn’t look away, his gaze staying on Dean, and Dean did the same, studying the blue shade. All he could hear was the hammering of his own heart, louder than his breath, or the creaking of the wood as he shifted his weight from one foot to the. They stood without moving, not that Dean minded. The only problem for him was the distance between them, the foot that could easily be closed with just one step. 

They stared until Dean felt a tug at his jacket sleeve, his gaze dropping from Castiel, and to Jack, who once again looked up with wide eyes. “Come play!” Jack insisted, giving Dean’s jacket sleeve another tug.

“Okay, okay,” Dean gave Cas a smile before letting the kid lead him through the kitchen, and into the conjoined living room, stopping at the coffee table where toy cars were scattered. The house had the same layout as Sam's though instead of messy decorating, and warm coloured furniture, it was bright and clean. Most of the furniture white, with grey and blue decorations. Everything, other than the toy cars, were placed to perfection, not a hint of dust seen. 

“You play wis sis.” Jack said as they both took a seat around the coffee table, Dean on the couch, while Jack sat on the floor. He placed a red card in Dean’s hand before turning back to the other various cars in a pile, picking out a bright green one for himself.

Dean studied the car in his hand, the design similar to a race car, with a number four painted on the hood. “Do you have an impala?” Dean asked. He lent forward to look through Jack’s selection though most were various race cars. Jack didn’t reply and instead began rolling his toy car in circles around the coffee table, making a soft vrooming noise with his mouth.

A smile grazed Dean’s lips as he watched the kid play. Longer strands of his blond hair falling almost to his eyes, which he’d occasionally brush a side. 

The game continued on for what couldn’t have been longer than a minute. Jack pushing the car in circles, while Dean made small comments, soon joining in when Jack asked him to. Until Cas walked in from the kitchen and crouched next to Jack. “Are you hungry, bee?” Cas asked.

“Yah!”

Dean placed down the toy car, as Cas stood, with Jack in his arms. Dean’s gaze followed as Cas walked to the kitchen, studying the way the fabric of his shirt hung around his body, seemign almost a size too big, and the way the fabric of his pants moved as he walked. Dean’s gaze stayed on the other, traveling slowly down his back, until he realized what he was doing and quickly looked away. A heat flaring across his neck.

He glanced down to the cars one last time before he stood, scratching at his neck slightly as he began looking around the house in boredom, first along the bookshelf and then the photos that were hung on the walls. Most were of Jack, though a few were of Castiel and Logan, kissing at the beach, smiling at what Dean assumed was a basketball game as they both wore green jerseys, all three of them at a party, the photos went on and on.

Dean continued to look only stopping at one that must have been a family photo taken when Castiel was a teenger. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he studied it. The photo had been taken with a green background, each teen wearing black and white, with forced smiles across their face. Frankly, Dean didn’t realize people actually took family photos.

“Your siblings?” Dean asked as he felt Cas stand next to him, the others breath low, and calming. He took the smallest glance towards the other, just in times to see Castiel nod.

Castiel brought a hand up pointing to a kid that looked similar to himself, “That’s my brother Michael.” He moved his finger as he spoke stopping at each sibling he named, “Lucifer, Gabriel, Anna, and Samandriel.” Cas finished pointing at a boy much younger than the others.

“Do you see them often?”

“No, other than Gabriel they live in Florida.”

A smile spread across Dean’s lips, as for the first time he actually turned his head letting his gaze stay on the other. “You’re from fucking flordia?”

“Yes?”

“Jesus Christ you might as well grew up in a ditch.”

A small smile grew across Castiel’s face, making Dean’s heart flutter. “You grew up in LA.”

“Kansas.” 

Castiel's smile widened. “Kansas?” he said in the same mocking tone Dean had used when he’d said ‘Florida’.

“What's wrong with kansas?”

“Everyone is a cowboy.”

“And cowboys are fucking awesome!” 

Warmth spread across Dean’s chest as Cas laughed, his eyes crinkling, and nose scrunching the slightest. This time Dean didn’t look away, his eyes staying on Castiel, as Cas looked back. The warmth of the other radiating, causing Dean to lean in just the slightest. He wanted to be closer, the foot between them was too much. 

Maybe if given another minute Dean would have found the courage to step closer. To raise a hand and brush it across the others cheek. Or even lean forward just close enough that their lips would brush. Though the minute never came and instead the silence was broken by the sound of the front door being opened.

It wasn’t the sound of the door but Jack’s excited screams that turned Dean's head. “papa!” The child cried, jumping up from the coffee table where he’d been eating cereal. He ran towards Logan, wrapping his arms around the man's legs. 

Dean grit his teeth as a smile spread across Logan’s face, and the man leant down lifting Jack into his arm. though that quickly changed when he looked up, his eyes immediately falling on Dean. “Dean,” Logan said though Dean wasn’t sure if it was in question, or a greeting.

“He was just leaving.” 

Dean’s head turned to Castiel. He didn’t know when it had happened but Cas had taken a few steps away, leaving over an arms length between them. 

His eyes stayed on Cas for barely a second before darting back to Logan and then once again tp Cas. He hated the man, that was all Dean could think. He hated Logan, and his pretentious suits. He hated the way Cas acted around Logan, stiffer, distant, quitter. Most of all he hated the way Logan held Jack, with care, and gentleness as if he actually loved the kid. 

Dean grit his teeth, “Yah-” He muttered, “I was just leavin’”

He stepped around Cas, features softening just long enough to give the other a small smile. He didn’t give Cas more than a glance after that, it hurt too much, and instead kept his gaze forward as he walked to the front door.

“Bye Bean,” Jack said as Dean walked past the child. He had raised his hand, opening and closing his fingers in a wave.

It was enough to make a smile graze Dean’s lips. He gave a wave back before closing the door behind him, and then leaning back against the hallway wall. A small breath parting his lips.

His gazed stayed on the door, watching it as if Cas would open it any second. Step out with that wide smile of his that crinkled his eyes, and run into Dean's arms. Though of course none that happened, and Dean was left to stare at the closed door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday everyone!!  
> I'm so sorry for the break, but I'm currently in my finally weeks of school and they are kicking my butt! but it's almost over, thankfully, and then I'll have tons of time to write!!  
> Anyways thank you so much for over 600 read (that's insane!!!) It means the absolute world!! I hope you're still enjoying it, and I hope you all have a lovely week, and stay safe!  
> Lot's of love, Paige


	20. Chapter nineteen

Two weeks had passed in a blur and soon enough it was the day before they left for LA. A trip originally meant just for Dean to talk to his record label. Though as it was over thanksgiving week, and Dean was only needed for a few hours, Sam and the kids decided they would come along. The day before they left started like any other. Dean just coming down from a high after a night at Balthazars, barely managing to pull himself up the buildings staircase.

Most of his weight was rested against the railing, his eyes half closed, seeming to shut after every step. He’d never wished the elevator worked more then now as his head spun with sickness. 

Dean took another step, squeezing his eyes shut at the sudden twist in his stomach. He wasn’t going to throw up, he was too exhausted to. Only able to feel the depression that always came after cocaine's high euphoria. 

His eyes slowly fluttered open, traveling from the upcoming platform and to the bottom of the staircase. He could fall. Let his grip loosen and his weight lean back. It would be refreshing.

He could fall. A breath parted his lips.

Then another.

The only thing he could hear was the hammering of his own heart, mocking him for how alive he was. Why couldn’t his body just let him die, let the cocaine win, and kill him happy. Why did his heart continue to beat, why was he so fucking alive. 

The thoughts continued to ring through his head as he reached the fourth floor, his body immediately crumbling under his own weight. He lent his side against the entrance frame, a shaken breath parting his lips. His skin was boiling. Licking with a heat that caused beads of sweat to form at his brow, though he couldn’t find the energy to pull his leather jacket off, or the long sleeve underneath it. 

“Jesus, are you good?” Dean’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of another’s voice. He lifted his head and through his half closed eyes he could see Logan standing over him, dressed in a suit, with a briefcase at his side.

“Oh fuck you!” 

A tried smirk tugged at Dean’s lips as he watched Logan’s features drop for a second, before going back to his usual harsh look. “What?”

“You wanna hear it again?” Dean shifted so he sat a bit straighter. “Fuck. You.”

Logan stared back for a second, before he shook his head and stepped around Dean, who made no attempt to create space. “I’m not arguing with a junkie,” He practically spat, though Dean didn’t care. He’d been called much worse.

“Oh so you only fight with your boyfriend!” Dean called as Logan began walking down the staircase. The man stopped walking, and turned to face Dean, his lips in a tight line, eyes narrowed at Dean. “Cause you know he’s not goin’ t’hit back?” Dean spat

“What did you fucking say to me?”

With one hand on the wall Dean pushed himself to his feet, keeping most of his weight against the wall. He was sure he’d crumble without it. “I said, “ Dean began, his fist clenching at his side, “you’re an abusive son of a bitch.”

“I’m going.”

The other turned away, almost half way down the first flight of stairs when Dean once again stopped him. “You don’t deserve him,” Dean yelled.

Logan turned around, the exhaustion clear across his face. “Then who does?” Logan asked, his voice never raising or faltering, instead staying calm. Something that only made Dean’s blood boil. “You? Some druggy?”

“At least I only ruinin’ my own life.”

“Tell that to your brother,” Dean clenched his teeth. He was going to kill that man, and enjoy it. A smirk spread across Logan’s face as even from a distance Dean could see the man clearly look him up and down. “Or your dad.”

At first Dean didn’t reply, the ringing in his ears taking over, or maybe that was the hammering of his heart. A breath parted his lips, followed by another. The ringing didn’t stop as Dean brought his hand into his coat pocket grabbing the first, and only thing he could, his phone. Not a doubt crossed his mind as he chucked it at the other. The sound of it crashing against the wall unhearable over the ringing. “Fuck you,” Dean whispered, though as mush as he tried to fill the words with anger, they sounded hollow even to himself. “Fuck you.”

He turned away, practically tripping over his own feet as he stumbled the last few steps to Sam’s apartment, and pushed open the door. Thankful even Sam slept in on Sunday mornings, and Dean was left alone to stumble through the apartment, and collapse on the couch where he fell asleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept. Whether it be minutes or hours. Though when his eyes fluttered open he felt decently better, his mind still ached with a pain he couldn't quite describe, but he felt at least functioning. 

A groan passed his lips as he pushed himself into a sitting position, one hand raising to his eyes to rub at them, and then his nose that even now the burning could still be felt. “Water?” Dean’s gaze looked up to his brother, who was stood next to the couch, a cup in hand.

“Coke?”

“Dean!”

“I meant Cola, like Coca Cola.” Dean mumbled, “I’m not that fucked up.” Sam didn't reply, instead handing over the cup, then taking a seat on the arm chair. Dean could feel Sam’s gaze as he took a sip from the glass, and then another, the cool liquid feeling good against his dry throat.

Sam watched until Dean had draken the whole glass, “Do you want more?” Dean nodded, handing the cup back to his brother, “Should I get you an advil?”

He shook his head, even if Sam had already walked back to the kitchen and was unable to see him, “That doesn’t help.” Dean closed his eyes again, tightly in an attempt to calm the nausea. He hated the ‘hangover’ that came from cocaine. With symptoms similar to a flu, that often left Dean too exhausted to move or looking for another dose, before the hangover became withdrawal. 

When his eyes fluttered back open his gaze met the apartment window that looked out to the deck, the sky outside a dark blue. How long had he slept. Dean reached into his jacket pocket for his phone, though when that was empty he checked the next one, then both his jeans pockets. Shit.

With another groan Dean pushed himself off the couch, stretching slightly as he once again rubbed a hand across his face. “I gotta grab my phone,” Dean mumbled to his brother. Despite his skin still boiling he pulled his jacket closer to his body, as he walked past his brother and to the entrance. 

“Fuckin’ Logan,” Dean muttered stepping into the hallway, and closing the door behind, “that son of a bitch.” When Dean turned away from the door his eyes immediately fell to Jack who was sat outside Castiel’s door, a stuffed bear in hand.

“Hey kid,” Dean stepped towards the child who’d looked up. “What’re you doin?”

“Playing.”

He crouched down, meeting Jack’s gaze meeting Dean’s for a second before going back to his toy bear bouncing it around the floor. “Does your dad know you're out here?”

Jack didn’t reply.

“How about I bring you back inside?” 

This time Jack looked back up to Dean, his wide eyes causing Dean’s heart to drop. He stared before looking to the door then giving the smallest shake of his head.

“You don’t want to go back in?” Another shake of his head.

Dean let out a low breath as he watched Jack go back to playing with the toy. He didn’t look hurt, just distant as he played by himself. A slight frown grazing his lips. Dean continued to watch until his own gaze went to the door. Should he go in. He glanced quickly back to Jack. His breath seeming to fill the hallway's eerie silence. Cas would want Jack safe.

“Hey kid,” Dean began, looking back to Jack. “Do you want to come play with me?”

“Yah!”

Dean laughed, “awesome.” He stood taking Jack’s hand in his own, the child's skin cooling against his burning, and led Jack back into Sam’s apartment. 

“Look what I found.” Dean said as they stepped back into the apartment. Sam turned, at first a smile across his face, though when his eyes met Jack it quickly fell.

“Jack,” Sam said, taking a step forward. He looked to Dean raising an eyebrow, though Dean didn’t reply. He didn’t know exactly how to, or what was happening himself. It wasn’t like Jack and the vocabulary to explain. “How’re you?” Sam crouched slightly as he spoke, though even still he had to be at least twice the child's height.

Jack looked up to Dean, then to Sam, “Good.”

“Are you here to play with Ellie and John?” 

Dean watched as Jack rocked on his heel slightly instead of Sam now looking at the ground. The child shook his head. He looked back up at Dean, his lips out in a slight pout. “Wis Bean.”

A smile tugged at Dean’s lips as he continued to watch the child. His fluffy blond hair that had been done in a ruffled mess, his pouty expression, and the way that he’d gone back to playing, flying his teddy bear through the air. “Hey kid,” Dean began, “how ‘bout you play with Ellie, and John while I talk with Sam, and then we can play together, does that sound good?”

Jack looked up at Dean for a moment, before slowly nodding, “Okay.”

After bringing Jack to Ellie and John's bedroom, Dean returned to the kitchen. He lent against the counter, running a hand across his face, before accepting the glass of water Sam offered him. He still felt awful. His head murky, and stomach twisting, though now he had more important things to deal with than his own problems.

“Where’d you find him?”

Dean took a sip from the water, his gaze staying forward and not on his brother who leant against the counter next to him. The sky outside had become a dark black, only lit by the deck's light. “Just sittin outside the door,” Dean said, “he didn’t want to go back in.”

“Did he tell you anything?” Deans only shook his head in reply. He took another sip from the glass, his gaze dropping from the window and to the oven’s clock. The numbers 8:16 lit across the screen. “Does Cas know you have him?”

“No, I’m not sure Cas even knew he was in the hall.”

“I’ll text him” 

As Sam brought his phone, Dean tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion. For a second he was sure he could fall asleep. The exhaustion stronger than his worry, for Jack, or Cas. A breath parted his lips, his eyes remained closed until sounds of footsteps filled the silence.

“Daddy,” Dean’s eyes fluttered open falling on Ellie who stood in the hallway entrance. “Jack’s sad.”

“What happened?” Dean asked, before Sam could even open his mouth. He'd pushed himself from the counter, placing his cup down before going to Ellie. 

“He wanted my toy,” Ellie began, “I telled him no, so- so he cried.”

Dean stepped around Ellie walking to her bedroom, and immediately to Jack who was sat on the floor. “Hey kid,” Dean whispered softly. He crouched down, reaching his arms out to pick Jack up. The moment Jack was in his arms, the child wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, and buried his face into Dean’s shoulder continuing to sob. “It’s okay,” Dean hummend.

He could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, though he didn’t look up instead, continuing to hum soffly to Jack. Bouncing him the same way he’d seen Cas do it many times before.

“He’s just tired,” Dean said, glancing up to his brother who was stood in the bedroom door frame. Sam’s mouth was gaped open, his eyebrow raised in question. “He’s usually in bed by now, could I bring him to yer room?”

Sam didn’t reply at first, instead glancing across Dean’s face with the same wide eyed expression. “Uh, yah,” Sam began, “sure.”

With Jack still sobbing Dean walked past Sam, and then into his brother's bedroom. He closed the door behind them, continuing to bounce the child until he took a seat on the unmade bed.

“Do ya want to tell me whats wrong?” Dean asked softly when Jack’s sobs had become small sniffles. Even still Jack’s face was buried into Dean's shoulders, his arm moving from Dean’s neck to his jacket collar, grabbing the material into his small fists.

“I- I” Jack choked a breath, “I want Daddy.”

Dean felt a pain in his heart as the child broke back into his sobs, his small body shaking with each breath. “He’ll be here soon,” Dean whispered. He ran a hand along Jack's back, hoping that it would soothe him in some way. “It’s goin’ t’be okay.”

He began humming softly rocking Jack back in forth, his own lips parted the slightest. “Here comes the sun dodudodo, here comes the sun dodudodo.”

“And I say,”

Dean inhaled, “It’s alright.” He continued to hum, “Little darling, it’s been a long and lonely winter.”

“Little darling, It seems like years since you’ve been here.”

“Here comes the sun dodudodo.” Dean had never been a fan of the beatles. It had been Sam who first heard them, somehow at the age of six, finding the song and falling in love with it. It had quickly become his comfort song, something Dean would sing when a storm had begun, or Sam had woken from a nightmare. “Here comes the sun, and I say.”

“It’s alright.”

Dean continued to sing until Jack had fallen asleep in his arms. He then shifted slightly so his back was against the headrest, his arms still wrapped tightly around the child. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched Jack sleep. His round cheeks red, and tear stained but otherwise he looked peaceful. His lashes fluttered shut, brushing across cheeks, lips puckered out slightly, and chest raising and lowering with each breath. He felt so small in Dean's arm.

“Dean?”

He glanced up at the sound of Castiel’s voice, away from Jack and to the other man who’d stepped into the bedroom. Dean's eyes quickly darted across the others face, and then down his bare arms, though he looked find, Dean couldn’t help but be worried.

“Hey,” he replied softly.

Cas walked the rest of the way to Dean, leaning forward once he was close enough, and taking Jack into his own arms. “Hello Bee,” He whispered softly to his son. A small smile rested across Cas’s face as he watched his son shift in his arms, one that made Dean’s heart flutter. He looked so calm, content, watching Jack.

“Daddy?” Jack mumbled. He lifted his head to look up at Cas, rubbing a hand at his eyes. He looked up at Cas for another second before burying his face back into Cas’s shoulder.

“Did you enjoy Dean?” This time Jack didn’t reply, instead only giving a small nod.

“How are you doin’?”

Cas looked up at the sound of Dean’s voice, he looked fine. No visible cuts or bruises, just tired, the purple bags under his eyes seeming more visible than usual. 

“I’m fine.”

Dean shifted so he sat up a bit more properly, swinging his legs over the edge. “You sure?” Cas nodded his head, “did-” Dean took a hesitant breath, “did he hurt you?”

Cas didn't reply, instead changing the subject “are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Cas’s eyes darted across Dean’s face, along his eyes, then jaw, and finally resting for seconds on his arms, which Dean thankfully had covered with his leather jacket.

“Thank you for looking after Jack.”

Dean nodded. He glanced to Jack, the child still fast asleep, looking so innocent and happy. “Of course,” Dean replied, he looked back to Cas, a smile spreading across his face, which Castiel returned. “I can take him anytime you need me to.”

“Thank you.”

Dean watched as Castiel gave one last small smile, before turning and walking to the bedroom door. “Dean,” He said, hesitating at the door, he turned to face Dean, his blue eyes piercing. For a moment Cas didn’t continue, instead taking a slow breath, “please don’t talk to Logan again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why my chapters have gotten so long recently???   
> Oh well I guess? I'm sorry!  
> Anyways I hope you enjoyed the chapter I'm pretty happy with how it turned out! I also hope you all have a fantastic day!  
> lot's of love, Paige


	21. Chapter twenty

“I need your phone?”

“Where’s yours?”

“I don’t have Cas’s number” Dean replied, “come on man.”

Sam sighed but handed over his phone, before going back to looking at their plane tickets. They’d just gotten through airport security, and now stood at some seating. Carry on bags surrounding them as they retied their shoes, and refilled their bags with the things they’d taken out. “I think our gates this way,” Sam said pointing to a sign that led to gate A through D. 

Dean only nodded, his head already down, with the phone on. He followed his brother and the kids as he scrolled through Sam’s phone for the messages app, “what’re you texting him about?” Dean didn’t glance up, he began scrolling through Sam’s contacts until he found Castiel’s name.

“Why do you gotta know?” Dean asked, not looking up. His thumbs hesitated over the screen for a second, before he quickly typed put a message. ‘You ok? -Dean’ 

“You’re using my phone.”

Dean glanced to his brother, who walked next to him, “fine,” Dean began, “I was seeing if Cas wanted to fuck when we got back.” a smirk spread across Dean’s face as he watched Sam's features drop in horror, “I was thinkin’ we’d do it in yer bed.”

“Dude!” Sam cried

Dean laughed, watching as Sam covered his ears, giving Dean a dramatic glare, before he walked a head to his kids. “Nosey son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled. He looked back down to the phone, a smile grazing his lips as he saw Cas’s reply, ‘yes -Castiel’.

‘You don’t need to sign your name’

‘But you did.’ 

“Daddy a puppy! Look! Daddy!” Dean looked up at the sound of Ellie’s cries, and to the dog she pointed. A german shepherd with one ear, that stood off to the side, with a security guard. A red vest covered it’s brown fur. “Let’s see the puppy!” She begged.

Dean looked back down to the phone, his fingers quickly typing across the screen, ‘Hows jack’ He read over the message quickly before hitting send. Castiel’s words from the night before still weighed on Dean, ‘Please don’t talk to Logan’. They’d kept him up that night, and even now he couldn’t shake them. Bringing an uneasy feeling that Dean couldn’t quite describe. 

“Ellie we can’t pet it, the puppies working.” 

“Can we please look just close, I won’t touch.”

“You promise?” 

“Yah!”

Dean kept his head down as he followed them stopping when his brother did, only a foot or two away from the dog. Sam had immediately launched into an apology though the security guard didn't seem to mind Ellie just looking. ‘He is good.’ Dean’s heart fluttered as he watched the grey dots appear, soon the next text appearing, ‘Thank you again for looking after him.’

“Dean!” Dean looked up at the sound of his name and to Ellie who’d crouched down to the dogs height, “look a puppy.”

“Wow!” Dean replied, in fake interest, his gaze already back on the phone.

As he typed out a message, he could hear Ellie making a small mewing noise attempting to coax the dog closer. He’d just started typing, when his gaze went from Sam’s phone and to the dog that walked towards him without hesitation. The dogs brown eyes looking up as he got closer. Dean could feel his stomach drop as the dog began to whine, pressing it’s nose to Dean’s duffle bag. “Sir could I please look in your bag.”

Dean looked from the officer then to his brother, whose face had dropped, pale in horror. “I swear,” Dean began, “I don’t have anything on me.”

“Sir, give me your bag.”

“Fuck!” Dean cried, “I swear!” though this time he spoke to Sam, hoping his brother would believe him. 

“Then you should have no problem with me going through it.” The guard didn’t as much say, but demand.

“You’re right I have nothing to fuckin’ hide,”’ Dean unzipped his bag and handed it to the guard. “Look through it right here. You won't find anything.”

The officer dropped the bag and immediately the dog nudge his nose against it. Dean shifted his weight for foot to foot, watching as the guard crouched down and pulled on a pair of blue eplatic gloves. He could hear the ringing in his ears as the officer searched his bag, the twisting of his stomach, that completely dropped when the security guard stood, holding out a small bag of white powder. 

“Shit,” Dean suddenly whispered. He could feel nothing but his racing heart as he stared at the bag of heroin in horror. What would his brother be thinking. “Did I say nothing?” Dean finally said, breaking the unbearable silence, “I meant no coke.”

“Sir we’re going to have to further investigate your bags could you and your family please follow me”

He didn’t seem to have much of a choice, Dean was foolish, and made dumb mistakes, but he was no idiot. He knew better than to argue with the man, especially with the kids, and Sam watching. Dean followed the man Sam and the kids close behind, even Ellie had shut her mouth. 

They followed him into an empty room, only filled by chairs, where after the security guard took all their bags away, he left them alone.

“What’s happening?” Ellie asked once they’d all taken a seat, the kids on either side of Sam while Dean sat one chair over from John. Her voice was shaking and as she talked she looked up at Sam with with wide eyes 

Sam sighed, glancing towards Dean just for a second, though Dean’s own gaze dropped to the ground, instead studying his feet. His old boots were still dirty from the wet rainy weather outdoors, coated in a drying mud. 

“Your uncle made a very-.” Sam hesitated, surely to make Dean feel some sort of guilt, though all Dean could feel was sick, which he wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t felt like that when he got arrested in LA, or even when he’d been thrown into the jail cell. “Dangerous mistake.”

“I didn’t know it was there!

“You still bought it and put it in your bag!

Dean looked to his brother, gritting his teeth. “Well I put it there but I wasn’t goin’ t’use it. I don’t do that kind of shit.”

“Sorry, I forgot! You’re to good for drugs,” Sam cried, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Well minus fuckin’ coke.” 

“Why are you so mad?”

“Do you know how long you could go to jail for this?”

“Fuck-” Dean replied, getting a glare from his brother, though it brought no fear. They would be fine, Crowley would get them out of it. “Four- six months, what is this Jeopardy?”

“Dean, you could go for the rest of your life!” Sam cried, “But with how much coke your taking probably will be only four months”

Dean clenched his jaw. No longer able to look at his brother his gaze dropped to Ellie, and then John. Both hadn’t spoken, John's gaze instead on his shoes, while Ellie looked up at Sam, her eyes glossy and lips puckered out.

He looked back to Ellie for another second before he looked to his shoes, Sam’s phone still gripped tightly in hand. He could feel the vibration of text, though he didn’t check it, instead continuing to study his boots. Letting a soft breath pass his lips, and then another, his heart was hammering though he couldn’t be sure if it was from the adrenaline or withdrawal.

No one spoke. The silence drawing on for what seemed like hours, only broken by the occasional shuffle, or whisper from Elie to use Sam’s phone which Dean handed over without argument. Dean’s head stayed down, until the sound of the door being opened broke the silence, and the security guard stepped in with another man, who Dean assumed was part of the airport police. 

“Dean Winchester, could you come with us?”

Dean didn’t argue, frankly he would rather have been with the officers the whole time rather than with Sam, and his judgmentale glares. He followed the officers to the door, though just as he was about to step through Sam spoke, “can he take a drug test?”

“I’m not pissin’ in a cup!” Dean cried.

Sam didn’t look towards Dean, instead continuing to look at the officers. “That’s not necessary,” the security guard who’d originally taken them replied.

This time Sam looked towards Dean, causing his stomach to drop. Sam looked exhausted, his eyes wide, lips tight in a deep frown. He didn't speak at first which only made the sinking in Dean’s stomach worse as he waited for Sam to speak. To hear the disappointment that would surely lace his voice. “Did you use last night?” Sam finally said, though the disappointment wasn’t there, instead the word empty and exhausted.

“No.”

“So the night before was the most recent,” Dean forced a nod. “How often- how many times since August.”  
“Shit Sammy, I don’t know.” His brother looked towards him, and for a second Dean didn’t think he could look back, his breath becoming shaky. “Maybe five times a week.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could the police officer stepped. “You can talk soon,” he said, “first we need to ask a few questions.”

Without another word Dean let the officer lead him out the door, down an empty hall and into another room, two doors over. It was just as empty as the last containing nothing but a table in the center with a chair on either side.

He glanced back to one of the officers, who only looked back. Dean gave a half smile before he walked to the table, taking a seat at the furthest chair, while the police officer took a seat across from him and the security guard waited at the door. 

They started in silence for a moment, Dean’s eyes wondering across the man's face. His neck tattoo that could just be seen under his collar, his brown eyes, and his harsh jawline that sat clenched. “Would you like some water?” The officer finally asked. He lent back against his chair, and Dean mimicked his action.

Dean let his eyes wander slowly down the man's body, stopping at his belt, where his uniform shirt was tucked into his pants. His eyes slowly wandered back up, across the man's board shoulders, and clean shaved face. “You know,” Dean began, he leant forward again, resting his elbows against the metal table. “You could atleast fuck me first.”

“Do you think that’s funny?” The man spat back. Dean gave a small shrug. “One more ‘funny’ comment and you’ll be handcuffed. Do you get that?”

The officer raised a pair of handcuffs as if proving to Dean he would do it. A smirk tugged at Dean’s lips, his gaze glancing between them and the officer. “Ooh kinky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how much I like this chapter but oh well, I slept in, this took me hours to edit, and I kinda just Ean to give up on it sooo I'm just going to post it!  
> I hope you all are having a great day!  
> Lot's of love, Paige


	22. Chapter twenty one

The handcuffs hurt. A lot. The officer being more than happy to cuff Dean’s wrists, tightening them as much as the handcuffs would allow, and then leaving Dean to sit with them, as time ticked on. For at least an hour, before Crowley had somehow fixed things. Dean assumed it was the same way he fixed every other problem Dean caused, with lots of yelling, threats, and then money. Dean was sure his paycheck would be suffering after that arrest.

Sam had been mad, though he didn't say anything about it when they bought their new tickets for the next flight, or when they were on the plane, and both kids had fallen asleep. In fact he didn’t say anything to Dean until they’d gotten their bags from baggage claim, and found Lee waiting for them in the parking lot. 

“Dean!” Lee greeted them as they walked up to his car, Dean first followed by Sam and the kids. 

Dean lent in using his free hand to give the other a side hug. “Hey man,” Dean said, as he lent in, Dean could smell a musty smoke coating his friend. His eyes glanced across Lee’s face as he pulled away,studying the red tinged that Lee’s eyes held. “thanks for lending us yer car.”” 

“Anytime.” Lee stepped towards Sam, a smiling across the youngest winchester face that Dean knew was fake. The kid Sam used when he was trying to be polite. “You must be Sam.”

“Yah, it’s nice to meet you,” 

“And that's my niece, Ellie,” Dean pointed to the young girl, who didn’t respond, instead shuffling the slightest bit closer to Sam. “And my nephew John.”

“Like your old man?” 

Dean took a hesitant breath, glancing at his nephew as he forced himself to nod. He could feel Sam’s eye on him, probably holding the worry they always did when he looked at Dean, as if Dean was ticking time bomb about to break at any point. “Yah.” 

The conversation died out after that and instead they filled up the car in silence, until Sam and the kids had gotten into the back and Lee was just about to open the drivers door. “I’m driving,” Dean said, getting the attention of his friend, who turned to face Dean. He grabbed the keys from Lee’s hands, and stepped towards the drivers door. “You’re baked.”

“So? That didn’t bother you a few months ago.”

“I told you,” Dean shifted slightly, glancing to the window where he could just see his brother's silhouette. He hoped Sam hadn’t noticed. “Not around the kids.”

“Well I wasn’t four hours ago when you were supposed to show up,” Dean rolled his eyes, instead of responding opening the driver's door, and getting in, while Lee walked to the passengers door. He inserted the keys and twisted them, the engine coming to life. It was a newer car, one that Lee had recently bought to add to his endless collection of cars. “Seriously man,” Dean didn’t glance to his friend, instead looking back before he twisted the steering wheel and pulled out of the parking spot. “What was the delay all about?”

Dean glanced back in the mirror. He could see both the kids, Ellie in the middle playing on her toy camera, while John sat to her right, playing on Sam’s phone. “Security found some heroin in my bag,” Dean finally said, his grip tightening around the steering wheel. 

“Were you goin’t-”

“No!” Dean cried. He didn’t need Lee to finish to know what he was going to say, were you going to speedball? A drug cocktail more often than not done with cocaine, and heroine. Cocaine was a rich man's drug, and just a part of the entertainment business, something Dean quickly realized, but speedballs, they were completely different. Something only someone who’d truly given up would try. Even lee who was high more often than not, wasn't willing to do it unless Dean tried with him. “Come on man You know I don’t do that shit.” 

“Well didn’t think you did red heads either.” 

“Did you sleep with Jo?” Sam cried, causing Dean to swerve the slightest. “What about Cas?”

“Cas?” Lee humened.

Dean didn’t reply, instead gripping the steering wheel tighter. He hated the way Lee said Cas. Slow and drawn out, the same way he’d ask Dean about his latest hookup. 

“He’s my neighbor,” Sam paused. “Dean likes him, a lot.”

“Do you want t’walk?” Dean asked. He twisted to look at his brother though Sam only smiled and turned to look out the side window. “Besides,” Dean grumbled, turning back to the front. He could feel lee watching him, “I thought I wasn’t allowed to date him.” 

“I changed my mind.”

The rest of the drive to Lee’s was filled with a mix of music, and complaints from Dean.Though their music taste was almost identical, Lee had a particular intrastate for rap that Dean didn’t appreciate. Then, from Lee’s house to downtown LA, where Dean’s record label was located was silent. That only being broken when both Sam and Dean stood on the sidewalk, Dean handing over the car’s keys

“You know my address?” Sam nodded, “and you’ve got my key?” 

Sam nodded again, “do you need me to pick you up?” 

“I’m good.”

Dean had just turned around when Sam cleared his throat, stopping him in his tracks. He turned back raising an eyebrow at his brother, who shifted awkwardly. “Dean,” Sam began, his eyes never met Dean’s instead studying the ground. 

When Sam didn’t continue Dean sighed. “Comeon Sammy, I gotta go.”

“Is there anything the kids can find,” Sam’s eyes finally met Dean’s, “drugs, needles, anything.”

A breath parted Dean’s lips before he gave the smallest shake of his head. “Just don’t go to my room.” Sam gave Dean a grim nod before he turned to open the drivers door, “I'll be back in three hours,” Dean stepped forward the slightest bit, “we could order pizza, and watch some movies, maybe.”

“Yah.” Sam mumbled. Dean's heart dropped as he watched his brother get into the car without even another glance and drive away.

Dean continued to stare at the empty parking spot before he took a deep breath and turned to the largest glass building, ignoring the reporter he could see coming towards him as he walked inside. The inside was what would be expected from seeing the outside, a large open lobby, decorated mostly with crystals and white. Everything clean and pristine. The only thing that seemed out of place was Crowley who stood to the side waiting for Dean in a dark suit, and Dean's own rugged clothing. 

“You arrived in LA four hours later and still managed to show up early?” Crowley questioned as Dean walked up to him. He had an eyebrow raised, and his eyes glanced Dean up and down. “Living with that moose is doing you some good.” 

Dean didn’t reply and instead walked past, and towards the elevators. “Do they know ‘bout the airport?” They stepped into the elevators, Dean pressing floor four, while Crowley had pulled out his phone, his gazing staying down as he spoke. 

“No, and we’re going to keep it that way, understood?”

Dean didn’t reply. He wasn’t about to argue, if they’d found out about his second arrest in under six months, he was sure his career would be over.

The rest of the elevator ride was done in silence. The silence continued as they walked down a hallway and through the double doors at the end, which immediately opened up into a room with similar design as the lobby. The back wall lined with floor length windows and in front a large desk where Richard Roman sat. Four other chairs spread out in front of his desk, two filled by Zachariah, Dean’s business manager, and Azazel, his performance manager. Dean didn’t like any of them, though he did have a particular hatred for Azazel. 

“Dick,” Dean greeted. He took a seat at the far right chair, Crowley taking the last seat between him and Azazel.

“Dean,” the man replied. He shuffled a few papers to the side, giving Dean a forced smile, that he recognized all too well, “it's nice to see you clea for once.”

“”Let’s just get this on with,” Dean grumbled. He shifted his hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out a stack of folded papers, his scribbled writing covering most of them. Dean unfolded the papers, and handed them over to Richard.

The man read through each one with an emotionless sartre, not that Dean cared, he knew the songs were shit, but that’s what Richard got for only giving him four months. “Do you have any more?” Richard asked, he looked up from the papers, raising an eyebrow slightly, “or is this it?”

“That’s it for now.”

Richard nodded before he handed the papers over to Azazel and Zacharia, who each flipped through them. “Wow,” Azazel said. “These are shit.”

“Your shit,” Dean spat back.

Crowley quickly sent him a glare, Dean only glaring back, before he slumped in his chair, instead glaring to the floor. “I’m sure Lee can fix it ,” Crowley said. “Now instead of discussing my clients inability to write could we please discuss the contract, and moving forward with it?”

Dean continued to keep his head. “I suppose so,” Dick replied, “what do you have exactly planned.”

He could hear the clearing of Crowley’s throat, followed by the shuffling of someone. “On December 16th Dean will be performing at a charity music festival in New York, I’m assuming Azazel has begun working on it.” Crolwey demanded more than asked. “This will allow for some positive publicity. Then in January he’ll come back to LA to record the songs, do a few photo shoots, and possibly an interview or two. We’ll begin promotion after words, and then in early July we will release it, and based on sales discuss renewing his contract.”

“And how can we be sure his negative publicity won't be a problem?” 

“Because I will personally kill him myself if it is.”

Dean rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. Instead he continued to watch his feet as they began talking about the finer details, rolling his ankles in boredom. When that no longer kept his interest, he looked around the familiar office, framed certificates and records filling the walls. In one corner a tall plant stood dropping over slightly. Dean didn’t blame the plant, if he had to spend every day with Dick he too would try to kill himself. 

“Thank you for coming.”

“What!” Dean cried, finally looking to Richard, “I came across the country, on a plane, for a five minute bullshit meeting?” 

“Do you have a problem with that?” 

“No he does not,” Crowley snapped. “We’ll be on our way.”

Crowly stood. He harshly grabbed onto Dean’s jacket, pulling Dean to his feet, and dragging him behind, out of the office and into the hallway. Dean stumbled behind, attempting to gain his balance as he was dragged down the hallway, only being released when they’d reached the elevators.

“That was bullshit,” Dean spat. He stuffed his hands onto his jacket pockets, sending the door they’d just come from a harsh glare. “They didn’t even say if they’ll resign me!”

“Make a good album and they will.” The elevator doors opened, and Dean followed Crowley in, pressing his thumb to the lobby button. “I have a meeting with another client,” Crowley said, his phone already out, “Benny is waiting in the lobby to drive you home.”

The elevator doors opened, and Crowley stepped out turning to the right, while Dean turned left. He tugged his jacket as he walked through the almost empty lobby. Past the reception desk and to a small seating area where he saw Benny stand. “Benny!” Dean greeted, he took the other man's hand and pulled him in for a quick hug.

“Dean,” they pulled away, a smile across his face. He’d missed Benny, his closest friend following Lee, “How has New York been treating you?”

“It’s fucking cold,” Benny laughed, npodding his head in agreence. “How about you?” Dean asked as they walked towards the front door, through the glass Dean could see the large crowd that had gazered, a mix of people with cameras and microphones. “How’s Andrea?”

“She left.”

“Shit man, i’m sorry.”

They stopped for a second in front of the glass doors, the flashing of cameras already going off. Benny shrugged “it was for the best.” He turned back to the doors, “Ready?” He asked, glancing to Dean, who nodded. 

A breath parted Dean’s lips, as the doors were pushed open, and the flashing of cameras erupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone have any tips for editing??? Cause I'm struggling to get it done!  
> Anyways, I hope you all have a great Thursday!  
> Lot's of love, Paige


	23. Chapter twenty two

“DEAN WINCHESTER.”

“WAS IT BECAUSE OF DRUGS!”

“DEAN”

“OVER HERE.”

“WAS YOUR ARREST TO DO WITH THE CAR CRASH? WERE YOU FINALLY FOUND GUILTY?” 

Dean was used to the press, it was the side effect of his career but as he heard the question he couldn't help but stop, turning to the crowd of paparazzi, who mostly had suddenly gone silent. “What the fuck did you say to me?” Dean spoke calm, despite the boiling of his skin. He took a step forward though Benny stepped between Dean and the crowd, keeping him from getting closer. “What did you fucking say to me!” Dean screamed.

A man only a few people away raised his microphone to his face, not seeming the least bit fazed by Dean’s screams. “I said,” he began slowly, no one else daring to break the silence except for the occasional camera flash. “Was your arrest in April linked to the car crash? Were you finally deemed guilty.” 

“Listen here you fucking son of a bitch,” Dean spat. His fists clenched at his sides, “If i was fucking guilty would I be standing here, would I fucking be standing here!” 

All at once the cameras erupted, as Dean lunged forward and Benny’s arms quickly wrapping around Dean’s waste holding him back. “I’d be rottin’ in a fuckin’ cell,” Dean yelled attempting to free himself from Benny’s grip. Though Benny stood an inch or so shorter than Dean he was much stronger, able to hold him back no matter how much Dean thrashed. 

“FUCKIN’ BITE ME YOU SON OF A BITCH!” 

If Benny hadn't been holding him back Dean would’ve pounded the man's head in until he'd seen red, until he’d let out every stress he’d face from the past days. Cas, the airport, Sam hating him, the record, everything. He’d pound th mans head in until he could no longer breath, but instead screaming and swearing would have to do as Benny practically carried him through the crowd, and into the black car.

Even when the door had been shut the questions and camera flashes could be heard, the car only becoming completely silent when they’d driven a block or so away. 

“That was fuckin’ bullshit,” Dean spat after turning away from the tinted window and to Benny who sat in the driver's seat.

Benny nodded, “I know.”

“You should’ve let me beat the bitch.”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t ye?”

Benny sighed, “it wouldn’t have solved anything.”

“That’s what you think,” Dean mumbled. He twisted his body to stare out the window once again, watching as the familiar LA streets whizzed by. His skin was still on fire, as his heart hammered with adrenaline. “Turn here.” Dean said. “I’m goin’ t’Lee’s.”

“Dean,” Benny began in a concerned tone, the same kind that Sam spoke with so often.

“What?” Dean asked, “Because you’re such a fuckin’ saint?”

Benny may not do drugs but he had his own fair share of drinking problems, and would often join Dean and Lee for the first bit of their nights, before they began shooting cocaine. He didn't give another argument instead turning where Dean had requested. The rest of the drive was done in silence, until they’d pulled up to Lee’s beach front house, when Benny said a goodbye, that Dean didn't respond to. 

He slammed the car door shut behind him, and walked towards the two floor house without another glance back. The November sun burning against his eyes as he made his way up the path, and to the front door where he knocked harshly. 

“Dean?” Lee questioned when he’d pulled the front open, he looked fairly sober. Just exhausted with his hair ruffled and his usual jacket and jeans replaced with sweats and an old t-shirt.

“Shocked?” 

They didn’t prepare any needles, or cut any lines at first, no matter how much Dean needed it, and instead made their way to Lee’s bar room for a game of pool. Though more often than not Dean who won, Lee was always willing for a round.

“So Cas,” Lee hummened half way through their first game. 

Dean lent against the table watching as Lee lined up his stick with the cue ball, and pulled his arm back, though he didn’t hit it, insead shifting his position slightly. “So Cas what?” Though Dean’s words were calm he could feel his heart flutter the slightest, a heat beginning to creep up his neck. He wanted to talk about Cas, a lot, but he’d never admit it out loud.

Lee struck the cue ball, sending it rolling across the table where it hit another ball into a pouch. “You’ve never mentioned him before.”

“Must’ve forgot.” Dean grumbled, he grabbed his own stick and began walking around the table to the white ball, “not like he’s that special.”

“Tell that to your pink cheeks.” Dean’s grip tightened, his teeth biting at his bottom lip. He could feel the heat flare across his cheeks, burning hotter under Lee’s teasing gaze. “Shit man, you've got the hots for him.”

“Bullshit.” 

Dean hit the cue ball watching as it sent his final ball rolling into one of the pouches, all that was left for him was the eight. “Why’s he so special?” 

“I told ye, he isn’t.” 

A grin spread across Lee's face. He had his stick pressed to the ground and had lent against it, his eyes darting across Dean's feature. “Blond or brunet?” Dean rolled his eyes, “short or tall? Is he hot?” 

“Dude, just hit the ball.” 

After Lee had taken his turn Dean walked around to the white ball and lent over the table. “Have you guys fucked?” Dean didn’t reply and instead raised the cue stick. He rested it against this other hand as he slowly brought tha tip to the ball.

“I sink this and you get the coke, I miss and I’ll get it?” Dean looked up at his friend, raising an eyebrow in question. 

“Hit away.”

Dean brought the stick back, a breath parting his lips before he hit it forward. The tip struck the ball, and Dean watched as the cue ball collided with the eight, sending it spinning into the far left pouch.

A grin spread across Dean's lips as, still lent over the table, he looked up to Lee. “Fetch.” 

~~~

Dean parted his lips taking a hesitant breath in. The cold air was soothing to his throat.

“So close, no matter how far.”

“Couldn’t be much more from the heart.”

“Forever trusting who we are”

Dean sang to himself as he walked along the streets making a weak attempt to tug his jacket closer around his shivering body. It had been sometime during his seventh dose, when he, full of energy and confidence, decided it was time to walk home. Something that took just under an hour sober. And of course within twenty minutes his high had worn off and he was left to walk the rest of the way, going through the sudden depression, and cravings. His feet stumbling under his own weight as he attempted to keep going. 

No matter how much his stomach weighed down, or his mind begged him to stop, to drop down and die there, he couldn't his fear of LA’s streets enough to keep him going. He loved the city, even after spending his whole childhood traveling, LA had always been his favourite. With the endless lights, and clubs, it was all incredibly luxiourse, though that was all just a mask for what came at night. Something the longer Dean lived there the more it became clear. One night too long, one too many parties and you were overdosing, or left vulnerable for anyone willing to take advantage. Dean had seen it enough times for even himself to be fearful as he walked through the silent suburbs, the withdrawal not helping his paranoia. 

“And nothing else matters.” he sang to himself, the words hanging through the silence, cutting worse than the chilled air ever could. “Never opened myself this way,” Dean continued to whisper, his voice shaking, though the tears never came no matter how much he wished they would. Now would be the time to shatter, when no one could see. When he could sob and scream, and fall apart. “Life is ours, we live it our way.” Only to get back up, and pretend it’d never happened.

“All these words, I don't just say.” His voice shook, and for a second he had to pause, gasping for a breath. 

“And nothing else matters.”

Dean continued to sing to himself as he walked, until he got to the last lyric, and then as he still had at least another twenty minutes to go he started all over. And then again, and again, until he reached his house. 

He pushed open the front door, his eyes immediately squinting as the lights in the kitchen glared. His brother rested against one of the counters, Sam wearing his usual worn expression.

“I’m not in the mood for a scolding,” Dean muttered as he took a seat at his kitchen island. He rested an elbow against the counter then his head in his hand giving his brother a silent stare as Sam moved around the kitchen filling up a glass of water then grabbing a plate from the fridge. Even if Sam were to yell at him Dean didn't think he could care at that point, much less argue back or defend his actions.

Sam placed the plate of pizza and water in front of Dean before sitting in the stool next to him. “Good thing, i'm not here to give you one.” Dean glanced from his brother then down to the plate, “you should eat. It’ll help.”

Dean nodded though he only picked up the glass of water taking a small sip to please his brother. “Why aren’t you asleep?” Dean asked when he placed the glass back down, looking back to his brother whose gaze had dropped to his hands.

“I wanted to make sure you got back.”

“Nightmares?”

Sam gave a small nod, his jaw staying clenched, and his chin raised the slightest. “Benny told me about the reporter.” Dean didn’t reply, instead looking down to the pizza, a small breath parting his lips. His heart hammered in his chest, and though he should have felt sad, or broken at that point he could only feel the numbness. Tugging at his chest, and licking across his fingers. “The crash wasn’t your fault.”

Dean sighed, he didn’t want to be talking, no he wanted to pass out on his couch, or scavenge through his room to see if he could find even a single dose of cocaine. Do something that would actually fix his problems. “That’s what everyone keeps fucking saying,” Dean said lowly, his voice coming out empty and exhasuted. “But we all know the fucking truth.”

He sat up properly running his hands across his face. Some nights, the ones when the withdrawal was the worst he could still remember it perfectly, the steering wheel in his hand, the spinning of his car, and the screams. The screams that would echo through his head, keeping him up late into the night.

“Dean,” Sam began slowly, “it could’ve happened to anyone.”

“Could we just not talk about it?”

A moment of silence passed as the conversation died out. Dean insead taking small sips of his water, and beginging to pick at the pizza while Sam watched. “I miss her,” Sam finally whispered, his voice seeming to hang in the silent kitchen, “every single day.”

“Jess?”

Sam nodded weakly, “sometimes I’ll be sitting in my office and It just hits me- i’m going to get home and she won’t be there, and she won’t be there the next day either, or the next after that,” Sam’s voice faltered for a second as he gasped for a breath, “Or ever again.”

Dean looked towards his brother watching as he clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes tightly. He wanted to make him better, god that was all Dean ever wanted. For his brother to be happy, but this was out of his control and Dean hated it. Watching Sam suffer, with no way to help. 

“And Ellie, the counselor keeps saying it’s normal for kids to process differently but she seems completely fine.” Sam let his eyes flutter open a single tear rolling down his. Dean's own jaw clenched as he watched his brother shatter. “Or John, his councillor says he’ll talk to her- what am I doing wrong?”

“You should eat,” Dean whispered, he moved the pizza in front of his brother, followed by the half filled glass of water, “it’ll help.” Sam laughed weakly. He picked up the pizza taking a small bite before placing it back down. “I’m not goin’t to lie to ye Sammy,” Dean began, “It’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch, for a long fuckin’ time, just like mom, and just like-” Dean let out a small breath, “just like dad, but you’ll learn to keep going, and until then i’m going to be with you, for as long as you need.” 

“I want it to be over, Dean.” Sam whispered. He looked over to Dean, his eyes now holding a red tinged to them. “I don’t want to be strong, or keep going, I want to see Jess.” 

When Dean realized there was nothing else for him to say, he lent forward pulling his brother to a hug. His grip only tightened as Sam broke into sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone!!   
> This is the last chapter for the week so I hope you enjoyed it! and I hope you have some fun plans for the weekend! I'm volunteering at my towns grad!  
> have a great day!  
> Lot's of love, Paige


	24. Chapter twenty three

“Again! Again! Again!” Ellie screamed.

Dean laughed. He swam so he was behind her, then grabbed her from her waist, lifting her up until most of her was out of the pool. The sky above them was dark blue, the only light coming from Dean’s pool. “Three,” he began, counting down slowly.

“Two,” Ellie said with Dean.

“One!”

Dean threw her into the air, the young girl screaming at the top of her lungs as she was thrown up, then came tumbling down back into the pool. When her head broke back out of the water, she spit some water out, a grin wide across her face. “Again!” she cried.

She swam over to Dean, wrapping her arms around his neck to stay above the water. Her smile widened as she raised her arm, pressing the tip of her finger to Dean’s nose. “Boop.” 

Dean smiled, keeping one arm wrapped around her as he raised his own, pressing his finger to her noise. 

“What happened to your arm?”

Dean’s smile quickly faded, instead becoming a confused frown. “What do you mean?”

With one arm staying tightly around Dean, her other hand grabbed Dean’s left arm, pulling it back above the water. She pointed with her index finger to the bruises that scattered Dean’s inner arm; though most had faded, the ones from Lee’s house, and the night previous were bright purple, fading out into green and yellow. 

“What happened?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She touched the tip of her index finger to the brightest bruise, the touch so light that it almost didn’t cause pain. She trailed her finger from the one bruise to the next, then the next, connecting them with imaginary lines. 

“I um...” Dean glanced across the young girl's face, which was scrunched in concentration, her wet hair sticking to her face. “I scratch my arm a lot,” he finally mustered, hoping the shaking in his voice wasn’t noticeable. 

“Oh,” she nodded. Her finger stopped for a second before beginning to trail again, the touch so light that if it wasn’t for the slight pain it would’ve been ticklish. “I have some, too!”

“You- you do?”

“Yep,” Ellie cried. She lifted her hand from Dean's arm, showing her forearm the same way Dean had his own. “See?” She lifted her arm closer to Dean’s face, though no bruises could be seen, only smooth skin. 

“No, I don’t.”

For a second Ellie looked from her one arm to the other, before she raised her arm closer to Dean’s face. “Now do you see?” Ellie asked.

“Oh, yeah, now I see them!” Dean cried in a fake realization, he adjusted his grip around the girl, beginning to walk towards the pool’s stairs. “We should probably get out now, we don’t want to miss the fireworks.”

Ellie shook her head, “No!” she cried, she pressed her hands against Dean's chest trying to push him away. “I want to swim! Let me swim!”

“Come on, Ellie, your dad said we could only swim for a bit.”

“Fine.” Ellie mumbled, pressing her face into Dean’s shoulder. Without another argument, she let Dean swim them to the ladder, then carry her out, and wrap a towel around her body. He grabbed a second, using it to dry her hair enough so it at least wouldn’t drip as she walked through his house.

He then wrapped the towel around his waist. “Are you excited for the fireworks?” Dean asked, as they walked around his pool, turning off the pool lights before they made their way into the house.

“Yeah!” Ellie exclaimed, as she followed Dean around. She used one arm to keep her towel held up, while she used her other hand to push away the strands of hair that had fallen into her face. “Is Anna going to be there? She’s my favorite!”

“You said Belle was your favorite, yesterday.” And Moana, before they’d left New York.

Ellie looked up at Dean, holding his gaze for a second, with a pouty lip. “No!” she declared.

Dean shook his head with a small smile, though he didn’t say more. Instead he opened the door that led back into his living room, where Sam was seated on the ground, scrolling through his laptop as he worked on a file for his case. John was sitting on one of the couches, playing a game on Sam’s phone. 

“Daddy!” Ellie cried, running over to Sam. Once she was close enough, she jumped onto his back, burrowing her face into his back, while Sam frantically pushed his papers further onto the coffee table, trying to keep them from being damaged by dripping water. 

Dean followed, and took a seat on his White L shaped couch, as he watched Ellie move, from behind Sam’s back, to sitting on his lap. “We should probably leave if we want to catch the fireworks,” Dean said. Sam had continued scrolling through the work on his laptop, Ellie having twisted to sit in his lap and watch him work. 

“Crap,” Sam said, “you’re right.”

He closed his laptop, then went to move Ellie. The moment he touched her, she quickly pushed his arm away. “No!” 

Dean’s mouth immediately dropped, as Ellie brought her arm behind her, the panic already racing through him. 

“My arm hurts!” 

“What happened?” Sam asked the concern clear across his face, and in his voice. He slowly reached out for Ellie’s arm slowly, and this time she let him, showing him her forearm the same way she had to Dean. 

“I scratched!” 

As Sam studied her untouched arm, Dean slowly shifted the towel from around his waist to over his shoulders, hoping it was enough that his own arm couldn’t be seen. “I don’t see anything, princess.”

“Sam,” Dean cut in before Ellie could say anything more about her arm - or, more importantly, his - “how about I get Ellie ready, and you finish up your work?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” without another argument, Dean stood up, using his right arm to pick Ellie up, and walked away as quickly as he could. He practically ran up his staircase, and down his hallways, into the guest room in which Sam and the kids were staying.

Dean placed Ellie on the bed, then began digging through her suitcase. She stood up and began bouncing on the mattress. 

“Are you excited to go home tomorrow?” Dean asked. He pulled out a grey and pink long sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans for her to wear and brought them over to the bed.

“No!” Ellie cried. She made one last dramatic bounce, landing her butt. “I want to stay, forever!” 

“Forever’s a long ass time.”

“No!”

Dean shook his head as a smile tugged at his lips, “Do you need help getting changed?”

“No!” She cried once again, grabbing the clothing from Dean’s hand.

After she changed, Ellie went back to bouncing on the bed, giggling as she’d land on her bum.

“Ellie,” Dean began, he took a seat at the end of the bed, forcing himself to take a shaky breath, “can we talk?”

Ellie looked over and gave him a small nod before sitting next to him.

Dean looked down to the small girl who looked back up at him with such wide eyes. His lips parted, but nothing came out but a shaken breath. Could he speak? Dean didn’t think so. 

“Ellie.” Another breath parted his lips and all he could hear was the hammering of his own heart ringing through his ears.

Slowly he raised his left arm, showing the young girl his forearm, and the light bruising that scattered it. His own gaze stayed on the bruises, going from one to the next. He could feel his stomach twist just by looking at them. 

“You see this?” He finally mustered out, getting a small nod in response. “This is bad, this is very, very bad,” Dean’s voice shook. He took a deep breath. “You do not want this, you don’t... it is a fucking disaster.” 

Dean’s vision blurred as he spoke, drawing another shaky breath into his lungs. He could barely breathe, nevermind speak, as Ellie looked at his arm with her soft gaze. “It ruins your fucking life,” Dean choked out, “it’s not... Ellie, you will never have this, promise me.”

“Okay,” the young girl whispered. Dean nodded his head, no longer able to speak.

Ellie’s gaze stayed on Dean’s arm for another second before she looked back up into his eyes. Holding Dean’s gaze she raised her hands, resting one on each side of Dean’s face. “I love you,” she whispered.

Dean bit his lip harshly, for a second only able to nod his head. “I- I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday everyone!  
> I just want to quickly apologies for if my posting becomes inconsistent, school just ended so it's officially summer break! and my mental health is spiralling! sooooo, we'll see. I'm going to try to keep posting Monday to Friday but like I said we'll see.   
> Anyways this has 900 reads??? That's crazy! I hope you guys are enjoying this! and are having a great day!  
> Lot's of love, Paige


	25. Chapter twenty four

Trigger Warning:  
Drug use

“When do we go back!” Ellie cried as they walked down the hallway, jumping and occasionally pulling at Dean's arm that held his duffle bags. On her head she wore her glittery mickey ears, something she had refused to put in their bags and instead wore on the plane, and then through the whole drive home.

Dean glanced back at his brother who walked behind with John. “I don’t know!” Dean cried, raising his voice to match the young girls. As they came up to Sam’s apartment Dean used one hand to dig through his pocket, finding his key, “You know if you take my bags, we’ll get to go back sooner.”

“Really?” 

Dean nodded. He offered the young girl his bags who happily grabbed them, running into the apartment after Dean pushed the door open. John sooned followed, leaving Dean, and Sam to stand alone in the hall, “Are you goin in?” Sam asked, giving Dean a look that he didn’t quite understand. 

“I’m going t’check on Cas,” Dean replied. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, as he glanced to Cas’s door. He missed the other, more than he would ever care to admit, even to himself. “You know, make sure he’s all good, and stuff like that.”

Dean took a step backwards, towards Castiel’s apartment as Sam nodded in understanding. “Don’t bother him for too long.”

“I’m a pleasure to have around!”

Sam only shook his head before walking into his own apartment. 

Dean turned away, heart hammering, ringing through his ears. He stopped in front of Cas’s apartment, raising his fist and giving a loud knock against the wood. A breath parted his lips, his eyes glancing to the floor, studying the ugly floral printed carpet that had been chosen for the building's hallways. Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other, pushing his hands into his pockets, then taking them out. 

When at least a minute had passed, with no answer, other than the faintest sound of shuffling through the door Dean raised his hadn. He knocked, though once again no reply came.

Dean frowned, stepping closer to the door. “Cas?” He glanced towards the peekhole that was just above the apartment number. “Cas?” Dean repeated, knocking for a third time.

“Okay!” Dean called through the door, leaning slightly closer to it. He swore he could hear talking through it, or maybe a tv. “I’m going t’get goin’.” Dean turned walking back to Sam’s apartment, “It was great talkin’ to you” he mumbled to himself.

When Dean stepped back into Sam’s apartment he tossed his keys and wallet on the counter, his hand then going to his jacket’s inside pocket, where he felt his fingers brush against the familiar metal. “I’m havin’ a shower,” Dean called to his brother, who was spread across the couch, phone in hand. 

Dean didn’t wait for a response instead walked through the apartment and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He then moved to the shower turning on the water, though instead of stripping he went to cabinets under the sink, where he sank to his knees, and opened the doors, revealing the sinks pipes. It was a spot he had used to hide things as a kid. Extra money he didn’t want his dad to find, report cards, presents for Sam, anything small enough that would fit in the nook between the pipes, and now that meant drugs. 

He stuck his hand in, his hand brushing across the metal pipes, feeling around until he felt the familiar plastic bag. 

After pulling out the bag of cocaine Dean stood. He placed the small bag on the sink rim, followed by the tin container that had been stored in his inner pocket. A breath parted his lips as he started, eyes wandering across the syringe he’d taken in his hand. 

He only stared for another moment before he placed it back on the tin, and went to the drugs, quickly beginning preparing, an action that came so naturally he could do it asleep. Watching the powder dissolve in the water, letting the drug fill the syringe, and then raising his forearm and pressing the needle to. Unable to feel the pinch as it broke his skin, the ringing of his ears too loud. 

With the needle pressed into his arm Dean slowly pulled the plunger back the rest of the way, making sure he’d hit a vein. A breath parted his lips watching as he pushed the needle a bit deeper and his own blood filled the syringe, mixing with the clear drug. Another breath parted his lips. Thumb gazing over the end of the syringe. Then another breath before he pressed down on the plunger.

The feeling came immediately. A minty chill that shot down his spine, the cocaine exploding across his taste buds, and with it the euphoria. 

The word had always felt perfect across Dean’s tongue when describing how he felt under cocaine's influence. The way it flowed off his tongue, beautiful, perfect, like blood dripping across gold. He felt euphoric, untouchable. As if he held the world in his hands. 

Dean pulled the needle out and looked up, to the mirror, his reflection looking back, showing off his blown pupils. The wide black devouring his green irises. Only the smallest ring of green left. There was something about it, the beauty of watching the green disappear as the world became brighter, that was just as addicting as the cocaine itself. 

He took one last look, across his blown eyes, his pale skin, the freckles that scattered it. All the details that seemed much more interesting when high, before he turned away. Dean stepped out of the bathroom, the ringing through his head becoming a deafening roar, it would die down soon enough. 

“Dean?” He didn’t reply, instead continuing to walk through the house, and onto the deck.

When he stepped through the door Dean raised his foot, balancing on his other as he pulled off his shoe, followed by his sock. “Dean?” He didn’t reply, instead repeating the actions with his other foot. “Dean?” He walked to the deck railing, pressing each of his hands to the metal, before with little effort, he began to hoist himself up, swinging his right leg over and to the other side. “Dude, what’re you doing?” 

As Sam’s hands grab onto his arm, attempting to pull him back onto the deck, Dean turned just in time to watch Sam’s panicked expression fall. “Are you high?”

Dean looked away from Sam, and down the side of the deck. The streets below had begun to darken from the setting sun, though even still most of the bushes and plants blurred together from the height, the only thing clear being the path itself. Would he die if he fell. Dean didn’t think so. “Very!”

“Get down”

“I need to see Cas!” Dean cried, was he speaking loud enough for Sam to hear? He didn’t care and instead attempted to swing his other foot over the railing, though with Sam tugging him back, he couldn’t quite get a strong enough grip or the correct balance to. “I need t’make sure he’s okay!”

“You need to get down!” He felt Sam tug at him again, Sam’s voice raising higher, though even still it was just noticeable over the hamming of his heart. “You’ll fall!”

“I won’t!” Dean screamned, “let me go!”

Dean struggled against the others' grip, using his one leg in an attempt to kick his brother away. Why couldn’t Sam let him go, he’d be fine. The wall that separated the two decks couldn’t have been bigger than a foot, he’d be able to get around it.

“Ellie go back inside!”

As Sam spoke to his daughter, Dean could feel his brothers grip loose enough for him to gain balance. Though as he began lifting his right leg to bring it over the railing, Sam’s arms were around his waist. With one harsh pull Sam managed to pull Dean back onto the deck, both brother’s collapsing in the process.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled. He brought a hand to his head as he stood, his vision spinning. His eyes first when back to railing, though only for a second before he looked back to the apartment. Should he get another hit. He still felt good, the euphoria still coursing through his veins, though how long could it last. How long before he needed another dose. He wanted another before the depression came. 

“What the hell were thinkin’?” Sam screamened. 

“I need to make sure Cas’s okay, he wouldn't answer the door, and his boyfriends a fuckin’ asshole. I need-” 

“You could’ve died!” Dean rolled his eyes, god Sam was paranoid.

“I wasn’t! I don’t think I even can.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, causing a smile to spread across Dean’s face. His brother’s hair was way too long, he definitely needed to cut it. 

As another moment passed, where Sam didn't speak, Dean turned back to railing. “Wait Dean!” Dean didn’t listen instead pressing his hands back onto the railing. His heart still hammered, coursing his veins with adrenaline, seeming to shake his whole body with each beat. “I’ll go check on him.”

Dean paused turning back to his brother. “And how in hell would that help? What’d you do, flip your hair a few times, say i’m Sam Winchester-”

“Logan likes me, I can go knock on their front door.”

“I have a better idea,” Dean stepped away from the railing, letting his hands fall back to his side. “You knock on their door… cause Logan likes ye, and i’ll wait here.”

“Wow!” Sam cried, raising his voice in a way that Dean didn’t quite understand. “Where do you come up with that.”

“Just came to me.”

Sam stared for a moment before shaking his head, “I’ll be back.”

It took Sam sometime between five minutes and six hours to return. Within that time Dean had walked four circles around the deck, thrown one of his shoes off it, and a vase, to see what would happen. Much to his shock it shattered. When Sam finally returned he took a seat on one of the chairs, while Dean sat on the floor, back rested against the railing.

“He’s okay,” Sam said, though Dean didn’t look up instead watching his foot as he rolled his ankle in circles.

“No he isn’t he just says he is but I can tell, I can see it in his eyes. Those fuckin’ blue eyes, with his fuckin’ lips, and fuckin’ sex hair, and fcukin’ blue eyes.” Dean paused, looking up to his brother, “wanna know somethin?” Dean asked making no attempt to hide the smile that spread across his face.

“What?”

Dean didn’t reply. He took a deep breath, then another. The cold air felt good in his lungs, against his burning skin. Crisp and bitter, managing to balance out the rapidly raising temperature of his body.

“Dean-”

“I love him.”

“What.” Dean rolled his eyes at his brother. What, is that all Sam could say. What, what. He sounded like a broken record. He looked back to his brother, eyes darting across Sam’s wide eyed expression.

“I’m in love with Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post today! I've been trying this new writing technique where I stare at my laptop screen and see if the chapter will write itself.... It hasn't worked yet, but I'll keep you guys updated!  
> Lot's of love, Paige


	26. Chapter twenty five

When Dean woke up the next morning his head was spinning, and before his eyes had even fluttered open he knew he needed another dose. The craving too strong to ignore, tugging at his gut, clouding any other thought. A groan passed his lips as his eyes fluttered open and he pushed himself into a sitting position. Below the couch both Ellie and John sat watching the tv on a low volume. 

“Sleeping beauty’s awake,” Dean turned his head at the sound of his brother's voice, who was stood in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I thought I was going to have to get Cas to kiss you.” 

Dean didn’t respond, instead standing and slowly walking to the bathroom. His throat was raw though he couldn’t care to get water, the cocaine would fix it, or at least distract him. As it would fix his exhaustion, and pain, and depression, and everything else wrong. When he got to the bathroom Dean closed the door, too lazy to lock it before he crouched to the floor, and opened the cupboard doors. 

He stuck his hand in the same way he’d done the night before, though when he didn’t feel the plastic bag a frown grazed his face. “Shit,” he mumbled. Dean leant his head under trying to see if the bags of cocaine had fallen. Even when he heard the sound of the door being opened he didn’t move, instead continuing his search, pushing a few items to the side.

“Lookin’ for something?” 

Dean should have froze at the sound of his brother's voice. He should have been terrified that his brother knew, or felt at least the skip of his heart. Though all he could feel was frustration as he pulled himself out from under the cupboard. “Where is it?” Dean spat. He stood shakingly using the sink for balance. 

Despite the harshness in his voice Sam didn’t flinch, only glancing across Dean’s features. “I don’t know what yer talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

Sam didn’t reply, but when Dean took a step closer his brother glanced to the side.

“You flushed it.” Dean barely whispered, his own gaze following Sam’s to the toilet. His heart hammered as he practically fell to the toilet, pulling open the little and looking down to the clear water. His heart dropped, he hadn’t known what he’d expected, the white powder to still be there, and even then how would he have collected it. “What the fuck were you thinking?” 

Dean grit his teeth as Sam’s expression stayed calm. “Dean,” he began, Sam took a step forward, though after Dean sent him a harsh glare he didn’t take another. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Do what? Kill myself?” 

“Dean!” 

He shook his head turning back to the toilet. “Get me wrench.” He could hear Sam’s footsteps approaching though he didn’t care, instead he grabbed one of the pipes the metal rough against his hands as he attempted to twist it off. He wasn’t sure what he’d do when he got the pipe but that was a problem for the future, at that moment all he could care about was getting the cocaine back. “Get me a fuckin’ wrench!”

“Dude, it;’s gone.” He felt Sam’s hands at his shoulders, giving a weak attempt to pull him away. “You aren’t gettin’ it back.”

“You know how much that shit cost?”

“Your life?”

Dean finally turned to his brother. Sam’s eyes were wide, a blood shot, his cheeks kissed with a pink shade. He looked close to crying, with his jaw clenched, and lips parted. “Stop being so fuckin’ dramatic.” Dean spat.

He stood, stepping around Sam, and back to the cupboard, something must have fallen, Sam couldn’t have flushed it all. “Please Dean,” Sam begged. “I want you to get better.”

“it's not like I’m shootin’ up heroin”

Dean pushed things around as he dug through the cupboard though he quickly gave up, standing properly as he sent his brother a glare. “I know things were hard after dad,” Sam insisted. Dean only partially listened as he frantically glanced around the bathroom, he didn’t know where else anything could be. “But he-”

“Oh don’t pretend you fuckin’ liked him,” Dean spat. He turned back to his brother, who had a shocked expression across his face. “You name your fuckin’ son after him, and think that makes everything okay.”

“Dean!” Sam pleaded.

“Fuck you!”

Dean didn’t wait for a response, instead turning and stomping out of the bathroom, with as heavy steps as he could muster. The quick movements sent his head spinning. The ringing in his ears only became louder as he reached out for the wall, continuing to stumble through the apartment, and out the front door. 

When the door slammed behind him he crumbled his back pressed to the wall, head spinning. Skin on fire. The desperation. To watch the coke dissolve. See the blood fill the needle. To get rid of the depression. The suicidal thoughts. To taste the mint feeling. Feel the confidence at his fingertips. He craved it. He needed it.

His eyes squeezed shut, a breath parting his lips. His arm wrapped around his knees in some sort of comfort. Baltazars was only a minute away, he would have something, but at that moment Dean was unsure if he had the energy to even open his eyes.

“Dean!” through the ringing he could hear his name, though his eyes stayed shut. He felt two fingers pressed to his neck, the touch cool against his burning skin, “Dean?”

“I’m going to get Sam.” Dean hummened in objection, shaking his head the slightest. His eyes slowly fluttered opened, a smile grazing his lips as through half lidded eyes he looked up to Cas. “Do you need to go to the hospital?” Dean shook his head again. He didn’t think he could speak, his throat too dry. 

Dean watched as Cas glanced around the hallway, before wrapping an arm around Dean’s waste and slowly pulling him to his feet. If it wasn’t for the ringing of his head, or the twisting of his stomach maybe Dean would’ve taken the moment to realize just how close Cas was. The other man's hand having ended up on Dean’s skin, his skin freezing against Dean’s, the touch light and addictive. 

They stumbled back into Castierl’s apartment, Dean’s eyes constantly fluttering open and closed, relying almost completely on Cas to keep him from tripping over anything. Through the ringing of his ears he could hear music playing. Led Zeppelin possibly. Dean wasn’t sure. 

With his eyes closed Dean felt Cas help him lay across the couch, followed by a cold hand once again being pressed to his forehead. “I’m going to get you some water.” Dean could only hum in response.

He listened as Castiel walked away, his eyes still closed, and soon enough he’d fallen asleep. 

When Dean woke up the music no longer played, and Castiel was no longer there.

Dean pushed himself from the couch, glancing around the room, it looked exactly the same as the last time he’d been there, clean and perfect. Slowly he stood walking to their TV stand where the cd player rested, a stack of CD’s next to it. Most were the one’s Dean had bought, though a few were new, and Dean’s own album was no longer part of the collection.

“Dean?” He turned at the sound of his name and to Castiel who was standing at the hallway entrance. He wore his usual white button up and black dress pants, though around his neck hung a poorly done tie. “How are you feeling?”

Like he needed to sleep for the rest of his life, or cocaine, or to simply die. “Fine,” He said.

Cas walked towards him only stopping when there wasn’t much more than an inch between them. So close Dean could feel the heat of the other, see the way his chest rose and lowered, even still Dean wished they could be closer. “Are you sure,” Cas asked, his head tilted, and eyes squinted slightly. He raised a hand to Dean’s forehead, Dean leaning into the touch, Cas’s skin cool against his burning. “Should I get Sam.”

“I’m fine,” Dean repeated.

Cas gave a small nod though he didn’t step away, his eyes instead staying on Dean’s. Not that Dean minded, he liked being close, able to see every detail across the other. Slowly He looked from Cas’s eyes and to the other’s lips. They were chapped, and parted the slightest bit.

His eyes lingered there until the sound of beeping filled the silence, and both men looked towards the kitchen. “My apologies,” Cas said. He began walking to the kitchen, Dean at first unsure whether to stay or not but soon deciding to follow. “The pie’s done.”

“Pie?”

Cas turned away from the stove, the smallest smile graZzng his lips. “Yes, would you a slice?”

“Is that even a question!”

Dean took a seat at the table watching as Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “It is,” he began, “That’s why I asked you.”

A smile gazed his lips as Dean shook his head in disbelief. He looked across the other, his blue eyes wide, god Dean could study them forever. “I'll have a slice,” Dean finally said, eyes still on Castiel, even when the other had gone back to removing the pie from the stove, placing it on the stoves top. “Whats the pie for?” 

“Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Shit that’s tonight?”

Castiel looked back to Dean, nodding his head. “While the pie cools, I'm going to get Jack, then I’ll get you a slice? If that's fine.”

“Yah of course.” Dean watched as Cas left, before looking back to the pie. Thanksgiving. Had Sam said something about a dinner, Dean couldn’t remember. He looked towards the front door. He would have a slice of pie then head to Baltazars, maybe he would make it back in time for a dinner, if they were having one. Or maybe he could return in between doses. He’d figure it out. 

When Cas returned he held Jack at his hip. The child dressed in a simple button up and jeans, looking tired as he buried his face into Cas’s shoulder. “Is it just the three of you for dinner?” Dean asked, watching as Cas got out a plate, then managed to awkwardly hold Jack and cut a slice of pie.

“No,” Cas turned, placing the plate and fork in front of Dean, before he went back to the fridge. “Logan’s family lives in Queens, so we’re going to eat with them.”

“When do you get back, we could have dessert, maybe movies?”

“I’m unsure.”

“How about tomorrow?” 

Dean took a bite of the bite, stabbing his fork back into it. He watched as Cas turned first, placing Jack on one seat with a cup of yogurt, before he took the seat across from Dean. “I’m sorry Dean but me and Logan already have plans for the weekend.”

“No chance in cancelling?”

“No,” Cas didn’t look up as he helped Jack eat. “Logan is leaving for Italy on Monday so we are spending the weekend together.”

“Oh great, how longs the asshole gone,” though Dean didn’t fully intend it as a joke the words came out much harsher than he’d meant. The glare that had crossed Castiel’s features only confirming it.

“Two weeks.”

“Awesome,” Dean mumbled softly looking back down to his half eaten slice of pie. The silence hung between them, though for the first time it wasn’t comforting, the warmth it usually filled Dean with placed by a stiffness. A tension that Dean couldn't quite describe as he fought off the anxiety for another does, and Cas watched Jack in silence. 

As the silence continued Cas would occasionally glance at Dean. His blue eyes only lingering for a second as he seemed to want to say something though never did. 

When Dean had finished his pie, Cas stood, helping Jack from his seat. “Thanks for the pie,” Dean said as he watched Cas grab Jack a pair of shoes and jacket, as well as his own trench coat.

“Of course,” Cas turned, giving Dean a smile. He wasn’t sure of it was meant in resource, though Dean took it that way, able to feel the tension between them begin to melt. “Sorry we have to part so soon.”

“It’s all good.”

A smile spread across Dean’s face as he watched Jack attempted to pull his coat on. First the child pulled it so back was in the front, though he quickly change it instead pulling it on upside down. Which is how it stayed until Castiel helped him put it on properly.

Dean stood when Cas grabbed the pie, tugging his coat a bit closer as he walked to the front door. 

“Bean?”

Dean looked down to the child who stood next to him. Jack’s head tilted back to look up. “Yah kid?” He hummened. Jack didn’t respond instead grabbing at Dean’s sleeve, giving it a small tug. “Wanna hold hands?”

Jack nodded. A smile spread across his face as Dean took his hand giving it a small swing. 

“Mind if I walk down with you guys?” Dean asked Jack crouching down to his level.

“Yah!”

“Awesome.”

Dean walked down the first two flights of stairs with them, something that took much longer then expected as Jack loved to stop for anything. Whether it be a spier in the corner of the stairwell or a crack in the wall. Though through it all Jack’s hand never left Dean’s, until they’d reached the second floor, stopping in front of Balthazar’s apartment, the first on that floor.

“Bye Bean!” Jack called as he and Cas had began to walk away.

“Wait!”

As Cas stopped Dean stepped forward, only stopping when there wasn’t much more than an inch between them. Dean raised his hands, bringing them to Cas’s tie. Slowly Dean undid Cas’s poor work, before retying it, able to feel Cas’s eyes on him the whole time. “Can’t have you lookin’ like a slob,” Dean laughed awkwardly. He let the tie fall from his hands, his own eyes finally meeting Cas’s.

“Thank you.” A breath parted Dean’s lips is gaze staying on Cas’s, for another, and then another. “Stay safe, Dean.”

“You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOO this has over 1000 reads????? Thank you guys so much I honestly one didn't think anyone would read this, and two I really didn't think I'd get this far?? Like I really though I'd give up within five chapters (like I normally do)  
> Anyways all I'm saying is thank you so much for such support, and the comments, and the kudos and just everything!  
> I hope you all have a great day!  
> Lot's of love, paige


	27. Chapter twenty six

Trigger warning:  
Drug use

Much like when the heroin was found in Dean’s bag or the first time Dean had gotten high while in New York City or any other incident that involved Dean’s habits, Sam and Dean’s fight was quickly forgotten, or at least avoided. Sam no longer mentioning when Dean left the apartment at odd hours, with a simple excuse like he was getting milk, or if he spent a few hours in the bathroom. Though that didn’t stop Sam’s concerned looks, the rehab pamphlets that would ‘magically’ appear in Dean’s bag, or any other disapproval of Dean’s drug use. 

Despite Sam’s subtle pestering it was still the best week Dean had ever had. With Logan in Italy Cas was almost always around, whether it be shopping while the kids were at schools, or late night movies. By the end of the first week Dean had seen Cas more than the past months combined. 

December 2nd was no expectation, with Cas over once again to watch Christmas movies.

“You broke your tooth with a slinky?” Cas questioned. He had turned to Dean, hsi head tilted in question. 

They’d just finished the second home alone, and with all the kids fast asleep, Ellie and John on the floor, while Jack slept on Dean’s chest, no one had much interest in starting the next. Not that Dean minded Home Alone one and two were the only good ones in his opinion. The other two were just a waste of time.

“It wasn’t the completely thre slinkies fault!”

“It totally was,” Sam cried. Dean sent a glare to his brother, who sat on the arm chair, while he and Cas sat on opposite sides of the couch. “You looked like that little girl from up.”

“And I was fuckin’ adorable.” 

Dean felt his heart flutter as Cas laughed. Dean couldn’t help it, his eyes glancing across Castiel’s features. His nose scrunched the littlest bit, eyes bright as he turned to listen to Sam tell the story of how Dean, at fourteen, managed to break his own tooth with a slinky. 

Another laugh parted Cas’s lips, and Dean’s gaze finally dropped as he felt a blush flare across his cheeks. His eyes instead went to the mug in his hand, one Jess had painted with small bees and flowers. 

Is this how Sam had felt around Jess. High without the racing of his heart. Addicted without the withdrawal. Like everything fit into place, the long gazes, the close contact, the feeling like everything was going too fast or too slow. Was that how Sam felt whenever he was around her, when he’d fallen head over heels for her.

Dean looked up from the mug, eyes lingering on Cas who still looked to Sam. Had Sam looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world. Like each glance was going to be the last. Like every detail had to be memorized.

Slowly Dean looked down to Jack, the child still fast asleep against his chest. Is that that what Sam felt the first time he’d held John, utter adoration. Like everything missing in your life had been found. 

Is that, the blushing, the leaning in to touches, the heart flutter, everything, how Sam had felt when he fell in love with Jess?

“Dean?” He looked up to his brother, then to Cas, both men now looking toward him with questioning looks. 

“What?”

Sam sighed, “Cas was wondering if you played any sports in highschool.”

“Oh yah,” Dean gave a small shake of his head. “Sports weren’t really my thing.”

“He was too busy with his face between some gir-”

“I was too busy makin’ sure your sorry ass didn’t starve!” Dean cut in sending his brother the harshest glare he could muster. Through the corner of his eye he could see Cas, a small grin tugging at his lips though Dean wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. “What about you?” Dean turned to Cas, who looked back. “Any sports?”

“I played tennis, basketball, volleyball, and occasionally archery, when my school offered it.”

“Shit, did you leave any for anyone else?” A smile spread across Cas’s face, and quickly Dean’s gaze dropped back to Jack. A heat flaring across his neck, as he could feel a twist in his stomach. 

The conversation continued on, talking about Sam and his inability to play soccer, then the kids, and signing them up for sports. They talked about anything that came up, late into the night, until Cas finally stood, insisting he should be heading back to his apartment. 

“I’ll walk you out?” Dean asked after Cas had grabbed his trench and taken Jack into his arms.

Cas looked to Dean, his blue eyes locked on Dean’s. “I would like that very much.”

Dean grinned as he followed Cas out of the apartment, and into the silent hallway, only their low breaths herd. Dean watched as Cas went to his door, pulling his key out and unlocking it. It was stupid to have walked Cas out, he lived next door, but Dean wasn’t ready to say goodbye, atleast not yet. He wanted to be around for longer, hear Cas’s voice, his laugh. See his smile, the scrunch of his nose, and sparkle of his eye. Just one more conversation, one more minute together, one more chance to stare into his eyes.

Cas pushed open the front door, before turning back to Dean, “would you like to come in?” 

“Yah.”

After Cas had put Jack to bed and got himself a tea, and Dean a beer they made their way to the deck. Where they stood at the railing, shoulder to shoulder, Dean’s elbows rested against the railing as he watched the dark streets below, only lit by a distant street lamp.

“Do ye think it’ll snow?” Dean asked. He raised the bottle to his lips, taking a drink, before glancing to Castiel, who’s own gaze was on the streets.

“I hope so.”

A smile grazed Dean’s lips as he continued to look to the other. They were so close, shoulders touching, the warmth addicting through the December air, Dean could almost lean in, closer, put his arm around Cas’s shoulder, or maybe pull him for a kiss. Would his lips be cold, even in bitter temperature Dean wasn’t sure it was possible, Cas was always so warm.

“Me too,” Dean whispered. Cas glanced to the side, and Dean’s gaze quickly went back to the streets.

He brought the bottle back to his lips taking another sip. The silence between the reassuring, comforting in the best way possible, the only thing that could make the moment more perfect would be the snow, though the bitter wind would have to do for now.

“What Christmas has been your favourite?” Dean asked, looking back to Castiel, who’d also turned his head.

Cas’s lips sat in a tight line, staying there until he answered. “Last year.”

“Why?”

“It was my first Christmas with Jack.” A small smile spread across Cas’s face as he took a sip from his mug. That was the Cas Dean loved the most, relaxed, calm, content looking. No signs of his usual exhaustion. “What about you?”

“This one.”

“It hasn’t been Christmas yet.”  
Dean rolled his eyes, “fine mr.exact.” He didn't continue at first as he thought of all his Christmases, most were spent just him and Sam, alone in whatever rental house or motel their dad had found for the time. “Eight years ago,” Dean finally decided, “I was twenty.” It hadn’t been anything special, but it was the last Christmas he, Sam, and their dad had spent together, it was also the Christmas Sam had introduced them to Jess. One of the few times Dean had actually met her.

“Why?”

Dean shrugged. He lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a sip before he replied, “It was just nice.”

They continued talking, at some point turning so they instead stood face to face, so close their chests almost touched. The conversation soon died out, leaving them to stare at one another and for Dean to wonder if he should lean in. Close the space between them, kiss Cas like he’d wanted to for so long. They were close enough, Cas’s breaths brushing against Dean’s cheeks.

When had Sam done it.

When had Sam known it was the perfect timing.

When had he known Jess would kiss back. 

Though Dean had never made up his mind, the chance was gone within seconds as the silence was disrupted by Jack. 

“Daddy?” the child mumbled. He stood in the doorway one arm wrapped tightly around a stuffed bear, while the other played with the end of his pajama shirt.

Cas turned at the sound of his son. Stepping the slightest bit away from Dean, which let Dean exhale a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Why aren’t you asleep, Bee?” 

Jack didn’t reply, instead dropping his bear and running to Cas, who picked him up.

Dean pulled his jacket closer as a gust of wind came, gaze dropping to his shoes just for a second before going back to Cas, who ran a hand along his son's back. He didn’t know where to look, watching Cas seemned to personal, too domestic, though watching the streets seemed awkward.

“I want papa.” the child sniffled, his arms wrapped around Cas’s neck, and face buried into his shoulder

“Oh Bee, he will be back soon,” Cas hummed softly. Dean this time looked to his beer where his gaze stayed, his thumb picking at the label. “Would you like to call him tomorrow?”  
Dean took a deep breath, the cold air filling the lungs. “Cas,” he turned at the same time the other looked up. “I- It’s gettin’ late, I should probably get goin’”

After saying their goodbyes, with promises to see each other in the morning Dean began walking to his Sam’s apartment, his right hand barely gazing the doorknob before he hesitated. He had money in his pocket, enough bills that he could buy a night's worth. Slowly his hand fell from the door knob and to his jacket pocket, double checking that he had his wallet. Sam would already be asleep, he wouldn’t know whether Dean returned now or in a few hours.

Dean gave the apartment door one last look before turning away, making his way down to Balthazars. The other man, even late into the night was thankfully awake, and willing to snort some lines with Dean. Even if Dean would rather shoot it, his needle was up in the apartment, and though Dean did some risking things, sharing needles was where he crossed the line, that and taking anything clearly cut or laced with other things. 

“Dude!” Dean cried. He’d been in Baltazar's apartment for little under two hours, and the amount of lines he’d snorted had quickly blurred together. Another three rows cut in front of him, while Baltazar sat across from him, beginning to cut himself another line. “Would you kiss me?”

Balthazar looked up with a wide eyed expression, pen that made a smile spread across Dean’s face. “Do I look like a fag to you?” 

Yes.

“If you were,” Dean lent for the slightest bit, pressing a thumb to one of his nostrils. His nose had become completely numb, and quickly was getting stuffy, making each liner harder than the last. “Would you kiss me?”

“Yes.”

Dean nodded, he lent his head the rest of the way down, and snorted the line. He felt amazing, the energy rushing through his veins, mixed with confidence and happiness. Life couldn’t have been better. 

He looked back up to Balthazar. “Would you fuck with me?”

“Definitely.”

That was all Dean needed to hear before he stood, stumbling slightly. He staggered towards the door, grabbing his jacket which he at first tried to pull on though quickly gave up. It had one too many holes anyway. “Where are you going?”

“I have to talk to him!” Dean cried, “Get that through your fuckin head!”  
He didn’t wait for a response or maybe Balthazar had responded and his voice had gotten lost in the ringing of his ears. Dean didn’t care either way. He had more important things to focus on, like running up the staircase, which seemed endless, no matter how fast he ran, or how many he fell back down. Did the building get taller?

His heart didn't stop hammering, as he reached the fourth floor.

His ears ringing as he ran past Sam’s door.

Skin boiling.

Euphoria endless

His confidence surging as he raised his hand and knocked on the door.

The moment it had been pushed open Dean’s breath hitched his eyes wondering from Cas’s face down his bare chest, continuing until his eyes rested on the waistline of Cas’s pajama pants which hung low on his hip bones. Fuck, it was going to be harder to think then Dean had expected.

“Dean?” Cas mumbled, he brought a hand to his face rubbing at his eyes before he brushed it through his messy hair. It did nothing to calm the strands and for a second Dean wondered what it would be like to run his hands through them, to tug at them, to feel Cas’s hands through his hair. “What are you doing? It’s late.”

“I need to talk t’you!”

Cas frowned slightly, “why are you screaming?”

“Sorry!” Had he screamed again, he wasn’t sure, nor did he really care. “I need t’talk to you!”

“Can it not wait till the morning?”

“It’s important,” Dean insisted. He didn’t give Cas time to argue, stepping past him, and into the apartment. The lights were turned off, which Dean was thankful for as he took a seat on the couch, Cas sitting next to him.

“Cas-” Dean began turning to the other. For a second Dean couldn’t speak instead only staring at the other, he was so beautiful, slimmer than Dean had expected, but stunning. Dean continued to stare, something he usually could do forever, but now that didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to feel Cas’s skin against his own, hear his heavy breaths, bite at his lip, suck at his skin. 

“Dean?”

He didn’t reply, slowly raising a hand to Cas’s face, which the other at first flinched away from, though as Dean rested it against his cheek Cas no longer moved, blue eyes locked on Dean. “Cas,” Dena repeated. He slowly moved his thumb along the side of the other's face. Loving the smooth touch. “I love you.”

“Dean,” Cas pulled away, though he didn’t stand. “I’m going to get Sam.” 

“I love you.”

“Dean.” Cas pleaded 

“Cas i’ll keep sayin’ it! I love you, I love you, I love you more than the stars, and then sun and that other thing in the sky. I love you more than that guy loves that girl. I love you.”

Cas glanced across his face. “Dean, you’re high.”

“I love you.”

“Dean-”

“Castiel Novak.” He could feel the heat of the other, Castiel’s soft breathing grazing across his cheeks. They were so close, noses almost touching. “I’m in love with you.”

A breath parted his lips and then Castiel’s lips were against his own. And even through his drug laced mind, Dean could have sworn, it was Castiel who had lent in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit later then normal (and is awful!!!)   
> I hope you guys enjoy it anyways and have a lovely day!  
> Lot's of love, paige


	28. Chapter twenty seven

His skin against Cas’s. A mix of hot breaths, and low moans. Scattered kisses, small touches, his name parting the others lips. That was all Dean could think about the next morning, as he laid in Cas’s bed, staring at the closet door across from him. The night before. Castiel’s hands along his shoulders, along his back, his own hands across Castiel’s body. 

It wasn’t rough like usual, or rushed. Instead slow, gentle, as if that night was the last they’d ever be together. With Dean’s lips against the others any chance he got. 

Broken breaths.

Sweaty skin.

Bites of the earlobe. 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, taking a deep breath from his mouth, nose too stuffed to breathe through. Of course he had the lingering thought, where did this put them. Were they still friends, or more; they had to more. Just friends don’t do that, they don’t have nights like that.

As a shuffling came from his left, Dean slowly turned, eyes landing on Cas who’d sat up.

The other man's hair was in a mess. Eyes half closed as he rubbed at them, pale skin now contrasted with hickeys. He looked small without a shirt covering him. The skin around his collarbones seeming stretched.

Dean's eyes stayed there, studying the pink hockey’s that had begun to fade into a light purple. 

“Morning,” Dean finally hummened. He sat up himself, letting the blanket fall from his chest and to his waist. 

Cas didn’t turn at first, his eyes staying on his lap. Even his colourless cheeks seemed more pale than usual, void of anything. “Dean,” Cas replied finally turning to meet Dean’s eyes

His blue eyes were wide, causing Dean’s calm heart to pick up pace. Would it have been better if he’d just left. Like he usually did. “Cas.”

Dean shifted slightly. He could feel the silence that hung between them, a kind that caused his heart to race further. Eyes glancing across the others' faces. He hadn’t regretted anything when he’d originally awoken but now, looking at Castiel, the smallest pain came. Regret and maybe guilt growing heavier in his stomach with each passing second. 

“Cas?” Dean repeated, when the other hadn’t said anything. He wasn’t even sure if Castiel was even breathing.

“Last night, we-“

“Yah.”

Cas didn’t reply, eyes never looking towards Dean. “I ch- I,” before he could continue his hand was covering his mouth, and the covers were being thrown off. 

“Cas!” Dean cried, watching as the other ran out of the bedroom.

Dean pushed the covers of himself, pulling on his boxers and jeans before he ran after Cas. Out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and into the bathroom, where he found Cas crouched over the toilet. The sound of gagging immediately filled his ears, though thankfully snorting the cocaine had caused his nose to be too stuffed to smell anything. 

Slowly he walked in, eyes staying on Cas’s bare back. His skin wasn’t pale, but colourless, spine easily visible. Dean grabbed a hanging robe, and draped it across Cas’s slim shoulders as he took a seat next to him.

Dean didn’t hesitate to bring his hand to Castiel's back, slowly running his hand up and down, in what he hoped was a soothing way. Even when Cas no longer was throwing up and instead had his head rested to the toilet’s rim, Dean didn’t stop. 

“You know.” Dean began, eyes lingering on Castiel’s face. The other’s eyes were still shut, a crease formed between his eyebrows, as he scrunched his face slightly. “I really thought I was going’ to be the one thrown’ up.” 

A small smile spread grazed Castiel’s lips. It wasn’t a lot, though it was enough to relax Dean in the slightest. 

He kept his hands running across Castiel’s back until the sound of footsteps filled the silence. Both men looking up at the sound, and to Jack who stood in the bathroom doorway. 

“Daddy?” 

A frown grazed Dean’s lips as he watched Cas force an exhausted smile across his face. Tightening the robe closed before Jack had ran to him, taking s eat in his lap.

“Hello, Bee.” Cas hummened, running a hand through his son's messy hair.

Though he seemed fine, Dean couldn’t help but notice the way the words came out, forced, underlined with exhaustion. His eyes held the same look. The colour hadn’t returned to his face either, continuing to give him a sinkened look, the way the robe seemed to weigh down on his shoulders only making it worse.

“Are you ready for breakfast?” Cas asked.

Jack lifted his head from Cas’s shoulder, a wide grin across his face. “Yah!” The child cried. 

As Cas stood, using the sink for balance, Dean lent the slightest bit closer. “Cas?” Dean began. He glanced across the other, waiting for him to crumble though even when Cas had gotten his balance Dean didn’t relax. “You should have shower, I can make him breakfast.”

“I’m fine.”

“Cas-“

“I’m fine.” 

Dean sighed, “come on man you’re lookinlike a fuckin’ corps.” 

Cas didn’t reply, eyes instead resting on Deans, then to the shower, lips pressed in a tight line. “There’s pancake mix in the bottom drawer, you can make that.” His lips parted, and for a second he hesitated, “thank you, Dean.” 

“Anytime.” 

After giving Cas, what he hoped was, a reassuring smile, he took Jack's hand leading the child out of the bathroom.

“Pancakes!” Jack cried as they walked down the hallway. He swung Dean's arm as they walked, looking up at Dean with his usual wide eyes, and grin. “I can help.”

“Can you?” Jack nodded his head, making a smile spread across Dean's lips. “Awesome.”

Dean crouched down, picking the child up, and placing him on top of the counter. He then lent down to dig through the cupboards. 

There was something incredibly right about cooking with Jack. The child constantly babbling to himself, or insisting that he could do whatever step Dean had just begun. A smile always wide across the child’s face. It was gentle, innocent, warm. Something Dean wished he could do every morning. 

“I can try now!” Jack cried as they finished mixing the liquid, and Dean had grabbed a pan to cook them. 

Before Dean could reply, Jack had already stuck his hand into the liquid. Dean watched with a disgusted face as Jack then stuck his hand into his mouth.

“It’s good?”

“Yep!” Jack cried. He stretched his arms out as if going to hug someone. “Sis much!” 

“Wow,” Dean glanced to the batter, raising an eyebrow. “The salmonella must give in an extra kick.” 

“Yah!” 

Dean smiled as he watched Jack grin, brightening the child’s face. Even when Jack had turned away to play with a few magnets on the side of the fridge, Dean continued to watch with the same adoring smile. 

Finally he turned back to the stove. He turned one of the burners on, and began to fill the pan with batter.

Cas returned little after all the mini pancakes had been made, and placed in the center of the table, Dean sitting on one chair, while Jack sat on the other. He looked better, far from perfect but better. The dark green long sleeve continued to give him a pale tone, though he didn’t look like he was going to be sick, or pass out 

“Look daddy!” Jack cried. He lifted his fist, the pancake in his grip torn and crumbling, “I maked it.” Jack stretched his arm further as Cas walked to him, leaning slightly to be closer to Jack's height. “you can try!”

Cas scrunched his face slightly in disgust, a smile spreading across Dean’s face as he watched. “That looks… very good.” Cas hesitated for a second, “Maybe Dean would like to try some.”

The child immediately turned to Dean, the same wide grin across his face, arm outstretched, offering him the crumbled pancake. “Bean?” Jack said, “you can try!”

“Jeeze,” Dean looked from Jack to Cas, who’d stepped away to fill the kettle, still the smallest smile noticeable across his lips. “Thanks kid, this looks-” He took the pancake, staring at the crumbled mess in his hands. “Awesome.”

When Jack looked down to his own plate, Dean stood, making his way to the garbage, where he threw away the crumbled mess. Though he didn't sit back down and instead Dean lent against the counter, watching as Cas made himself a cup of tea. His dark hair still damp a few strands sticking to his face, lips pressed in a tight line, stance more relaxed than usual. 

Dean watched until the other turned. His gaze quickly went to Jack, a hot blush creeping up his neck. 

“I’m done,” Jack declared.

The child pushed his chair out, hoping off it and immediately running away, back into his room, leaving Dean and Cas alone.

Slowly Dean looked up to the other, a small breath parting his lips. Seconds ticked on, neither of them even moving, never mind speaking. Where was he even supposed to start? I had a fun night. Did you have fun cheating on your boyfriend? 

Another breath parted Dean’s lips, his eyes wondering across Castiel’s face, his sharp jawline, and chapped lips. The space between them, the space that always was there, and always, even if it was only a foot seemed too large. 

“Are you goin’ to tell him?” Dean finally asked, the words seeming to hang in the air.

Cas didn’t look up at first, instead continuing to study his tea. “There’s nothing to tell him.” He looked up to Dean, blue eyes not wide, but narrowed. 

“Nothing?” Dean cried. “I could think of a thing or two!” 

“You were high.”

“And?” How could Cas just ignore everything, did it really mean that little to him. Everything that had happened, everything that Dean had said. The thought would have pained Dean if he weren’t for the boiling of his blood. “Cas this is your chance, you could leave him.” 

“I don’t think you understand,” Castiel replied, words laced with a harsh tone. “I don’t want to leave.” 

“So what, you stay with someone who beats you every second day,” Dean spat, clenching his fists at his sides. “Let him tear apart your fuckin’ life!”

Cas didn’t flinch as Dean talked, his harsh gaze burning into Dean. Lips stuck in a tight line, posture straight. They were barely a foot apart, and for a second all Dean could feel was the others heat.

“You’re one to talk.” Cas finally replied, his voice low and monotone.

“I dont have a fuckin’ kid, relying on me.” 

Dean let out a low breath, eyes finally looking away from Cas’s and to the others lips. “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out.”

Dean shook his head. He took a step back from Cas walking towards the hallway to grab his shirt and jacket. “Fine!” Dean called over his shoulder. “It’s your fuckin problem!” 

When he reached the other bedroom he pulled his t-shirt on, followed by his flannel and leather jacket. Heart pounding, and blood boiling the whole time. Fucking Castiel. 

“Have fun with that son of a bitch.” Dean said, as he walked back into the main room. Cas still standing at the counter, eyes on Dean though he didn’t speak.

Dean pulled the front door open turning to glare one last time at Castiel. “I had a great fuckin night,” Dean spat, filling each word with as much sarcasm as he could muster. “Really, we shouldn’t do it again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Sorry that chapter updates have become a little iffy! Summer break has begun, and I just got a new job that I'm starting today, so I'm struggling to find writing time!  
> Currently I'm hoping to be updating every second day, but we'll see how that turns out!  
> Anyways! Happy last day of pride month!  
> Lot's of love, Paige


	29. Chapter twenty eight

“Fuck.” Dean screamed as he slammed Sam’s front door closed, throwing his keys and wallet onto the kitchen.

His skin was still boiling from the argument just moments ago. Hands in fists, and jaw clenched. The image of Cas still burning in his mind. His blue eyes, damp hair, his pressed together li-ps as he stared daggers at Dean. His monotone voice. 

“Fuck that son of a bitch!”

“Fuck them both!” Dean yelled again.

He wasn’t sure how early it was, or whether his brother was asleep or not, but frankly Dean didn’t care. Continuing to stomp through the apartment, before he fell back into the couch with a dramatic groan.

He let his eyes close, keeping them that way even as he heard footsteps come his way, stopping next to him.

“Dude?” Dean didn’t reply to his brother, instead bringing an arm to his face. Covering his eyes with it. “Where’d you go last night?”

“Fuck off.”

A second of silence passed. Sam surely stared in shock, eyes wide, and mouth a gap unsure how to reply. “Dean-”

“Fuck,” Dean paused. “Off.”

Dean could hear a sigh come from his brother before Sam walked away, leaving Dean to mope alone on the couch. Which was where he sat for longer than he’d ever liked to admit. Arm over his face, legs propped up on the other end of the couch. Skin still boiling. Heart racing.

Fuck Cas. Fuck Cas and his ability to brush that night away so easily, had it really meant that little him. Everything Dean said before meant nothing. Did Dean really mean that little to him. Was he that disposable. 

Dean layed on the couch, replaying the night, and the morning after, over and over, until a a knocking came from the door. Causing Dean to sit up in curiosity.

“Who is it?” Dean asked. He made no attempt to stand, instead watching as Sam looked through the doors peephole.

“Just Cas.”

“Don’t op-” Sam didn’t listen and instead pulled the door open.

Dean quickly fell back, one or two swears parting his lips. He kept his body flat against the couch, hoping that Cas hadn't seen him. 

Despite not wanting to see the other, Dean certainly wanted to hear him. Keeping his own mouth shut, and breaths hushed in hopes to hear the conversation, though it wasn’t enough. Dean too far to hear anything other than the distant mutters and occasional shifts, the floorboards creating occasionally. 

Finally the door was shut, and Dean sat up.

“What’d he want?”

“He was just returning your phone,” Sam replied. He looked down to Dean’s phone in his hands, then to Dean, a confused expression across his face. His eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together in a tight line. Sam looked back to the phone, then to the door, and finally back to Dean, his confused expression dropping into shock, much to Dean’s distress. “You and Cas-” Sam began.

Sam opened his mouth again, though this time not to say anything but instead stared at Dean in shock. 

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled. He stood grabbing his phone from Sam’s hand, one he’d only recently bought after throwing his other at Logan. He took a seat back on the couch, turning it on, and opening a text from Lee. Even with his head down he could still feel Sam’s stare.

Dean’s gaze darted across Lee's text, ‘concerts the 16th?’, before typing out a yes and hitting send.

“You and Cas- Last night?” 

“Fuck off.”

Dean kept his head down, keeping it that way even as Sam walked over, taking a seat on the armrest. The indication that Lee was typing appeared, before it was replaced by his message, ‘I'm going to fly in on the 15th.”

“Then why are you in such a bad mood?” 

“Why’re you so nosey?”

“Is it that time of the month?” 

Dean finally looked up sending his brother the harshest glare he could muster. Sam only looking back ttih wide puppy dog eyes, and a slightly puckered out lip. It was no question where Ellie got her look from.

“Come on,” Sma insisted. Dean replied with a groan, letting his eyes flutter shut and head tilt back. Could Sam not take no for an answer. “What happened? 

“Well Sammy,” Dean began, sitting up properly, “I know it’s a bit different, but for two men, you have to-”

“Oh shut up.” A smile spread across Dean’s face as the disgust was clear in Sam’s words. “I meant, why- what about Logan.”

“Why, because we wanted to,” and Dean was very high, though he wouldn’t admit that. “and Logan as far as I know is in Italy until Thursday.”

“So why are you in such a mood.”

Dean hesitated for a second, “well the night was great, really fuckin’ great, it was the next morning that had the problems.” Sam didn’t reply, which Dean assumed meant he should start explaining. “I had asked him if he was goin’ to tell Logan, and then he got all fuckin’ defensive, and said shit like it didn’t count, cause I was- It was bullshit.”

“Are you going to apologize?”

Dean opened his mouth the slightest bit in shock. Staring back at his brother to see if Sam was serious. “To fuckin’ who?” Dean cried, “Why in hell should I be apologizing?”

Sam gave the smallest shrug, “you did sleep with him.”

“Sammy,” Dean began, “I know it may be a lone activity for you but, for most people it involves two. Three if you're lucky- four if you're high.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, shifting slightly in his seat. “Sometimes you have to swallow your pride, and apologize even if you didn’t do anything.”

“If it meant that little to him maybe I don’t want to apologize.”

“Dean,” Sam began slowly, expression concerned. his voice soft and hesitant, causing Dean’s stomach to twist. Dean glanced to his feet, no longer able to hold his brother’s gaze. “What did you think was going to happen after last night?”

Dean didn’t reply, unsure how to. What did he expect. He didn’t expect anything, though the smallest part of him had hoped that the night would lead to more, dates, holding hands, kisses, just being together. Even if he knew it was impossible, he couldn’t help but hope, imagine the possibilities.

Sam had opened his mouth to talk, though before he could Dean stood, walking to the kitchen. 

He started the kettle, watching it in hopes to seem busy enough that Sam wouldn‘t talk to him. Sam’s question still burning in his head. Of course he had been stupid to imagine something, he knew that, though it didn’t make the hurt that burned in his heart any less painful.

“In LA,” Dean called, words seeming to hang through the silent apartment. He looked to Sam, the other still sat in the living room.. “You said you’d changed your mind about me being with Cas, why?”

“Dean-”

“Sam.”

“I don’t know, I guess seeing you with Jack the night you found him in the hall,” Sam paused taking a breath. “You really cared about him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me so long to write. I finished it like seven times, and rewrote it it every time because I hated it so much (Oops). IU'm not completely happy with this one eater but I really wan to update cause I have chapters I'm excited for I won't ever get to wire them if I stay stuck on this one.  
> SO YAH!  
> Thanks for baring with me!  
> and listening to m ramble!
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely Monday, stay safe, wear masks, be nice, and take care of yourself!  
> Lot's of love, paige


	30. Chapter twenty nine

Dean pulled his jacket on, hand going to his jean pocket where he could feel his wallet. “I’m leaving to pick up Lee.” Dean called, hopefully loud enough for Sam to hear from his bedroom. When his brother yelled back an okay, he grabbed his keys from the counter, stuffing them into his jacket pocket, followed by his phone.

“Where are you going?” 

Dean turned, eyes immediately falling on Ellie who was sat at the kitchen table, colouring sheets and paper spread out in front of her. “To pick my friend up from the airport.”

Ellie looked down to her drawing, before looking back to Dean, “are you- is he your best friend?”

“Hell no.” Dean stepped towards the other, quickly ruffling her hair. “You’re my best friend.”

A smile spread across Dean’s face as he watched Ellie giggle. “You’re my best friend too!”

“Damn right.”

Dean pressed a quick kiss to the top of Ellie’s head, before giving her hair another ruffle, the dark strands becoming frizzy. He stepped away to the front door, his hand just reaching the handle when Ellie’s voice stopped him. 

“Wait,” she cried. Dean turned, raising an eyebrow in question. “Will you- Are you- the tree! We decorate it tonight!”

“Don’t worry,” Dean looked to Ellie, the young girl looking back with wide eyes. “I’ll be back to decorate.”

Ellie raised her pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Dean raised his pinky to the other, pretending to lock their fingers, before he gave one last goodbye, and stepped out of the apartment. 

As he closed the door, his eyes lingered on the next door over, Castiel’s. He could feel his stomach twist, a dull pain, or maybe discomfort settling in his chest. It had been almost two week since they’d last talked, and Dean missed Cas more than he’d ever care to admit. He missed the warmth that came from being near him, his smile, the crinkle of his eyes. The way Dean’s heart skipped a beat whenever he was around.

A breath parted Dean’s lips, eyes continuing to rest on the door. One last second, that’s all he gave himself before his gaze dropped and he walked away. 

~~~

“You free for a before party?”

“Before party?” Dean questioned, glancing to Lee, who was sat in the passenger seat, phone in hand.

“Yah before the concert, drink a bit, maybe do a few lines.”

Dean shook his head slightly, looking back to the road. “Can’t the kids have some school christmas concert shit tomorrow,” Dean explained, “I’m goin’ to watch before I perform.”

“Tonight?”

“Dude it’s thursday. We’ll end up at some crap bar.”

Lee didn’t reply, instead the sound of typing coming from Dean’s right. “Club Cumming,” Dean didn’t reply, “it’s DJ night.”

“I can’t go.”

“Oh yah- you have a bitch now.” Dean grit his teeth, grip around the steering wheel tightening. “What was his name? C, somethin’ Ca-”

“One drink.” Dean interupted, “That’s it.”

One drink was how it started, just a beer, something Dean could easily handle without getting tipsy. Though after that beer a vodka martini came, and the reason why he needed to stay sober had quickly slipped from his mind. Another drink followed, mixed with a few doses of coke, followed by throwing up, and then more alcohol and coke. The patterning continuing, drink, shoot up in the bathroom, dance, repeat. 

It was sometime between the sixth or fourteenth dose, that Dean found his chest pressed to another man’s. His ears ringing, the beat of the music seeming to shake his whole body, following the rhythm of his racing heart. Everything around him incredibly alive. The music louder, lights brighter, everything so perfect it was impossible to imagine being alive not high.

His hands roamed down the man's body. Fingers playing with the hem of the shirt, before he slipped his hands under. The other’s skin cold against his own, as he ran a hand along the man’s side, leaning closer.

Dean lent in until his lips almost brushed the other’s ears, hands going to the man's hips, thumbs looping through his jeans belt loop. 

For a second that’s where he stayed too focused on how perfect everything was to talk. To lost in the euphoria, the music, the ever rising temperature of his body. How the other man's body felt against his own. 

A small breath parted Dean’s lips, the man shivering against him. “Lets go to yours.” Dean whispered, or maybe yelled, not that he cared either way. He didn’t pull away, though he moved his hands, one staying at the other’s hip, while the other slowly began to slip under the man's jeans.

Dean could feel a shaken breath part the other man's lips, before he gave a small nod. 

“Okay.”

~~~

When Dean woke, he found himself in the back seat of the impala, head spinning, skin boiling. The memories from the previous night fuzzy, and blurred, only glimpses clear. 

The euphoria.

Going back with the other man.

Sex.

A mix of drugs, and alcohol.

Throwing up.

The euphoria.

Dean groaned, running a hand across his face. He gave himself another moment, before, with aching muscles, he climbed into the driver's seat, his head spinning the slightest bit.

“Shit, baby.” Dean mumbled. He rested his head against the steering wheel, listening to nothing but the hammering of his heart that rang through his ears, beating so fast he wasn’t sure how it hadn’t stopped. “Shit.”

Slowly he lifted his head from the wheel, putting the keys into the ignition and starting the car. He put the car into drive, pulling away from the curve, just as his phone began to buss from his pocket. 

With one hand still on the steering wheel, Dean got his phone from his pocket, Sam’s name appearing across the screen.

“Shit,” Dean whispered. He stared at the screen for a moment, thumb hesitantly sliding accept, before he tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. “Heya Sammy,” Dean greeted. He turned back to the road, the streets mostly empty, and fairly familiar. He couldn’t have been much more than fifteen minutes from Sam’s apartment. “What do ya want?

“Where the hell are you?”

“Just driving back, what’s the problem.”

The other end went silent, for a moment, and then another. The silence continued on for so long Dean wondered if his brother had hung up. “What’s the problem? Are you serious? Dean, it's Friday you’re supposed to drive the kids to school.”

“Shit.” He looked down to his phone, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, using the other to pick up his phone, and press the home button, lighting his phone screen. Sure enough Sam was right, the word Friday printed out in the normal block letters, below the time, 7:49 am. “I’m on my way now, you can leave for work.”

“I’m already there, Cas is going to get them to school.”

Dean let out a dramatic groan. He let his phone drop back into the passenger's seat, turning back to the road. “I can drive them.”

“Dean-” There was a hesitant pause before Sam continued. “I don’t think you should be driving them right now.”

“I’m not high.”

“I just- I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Dean clenched his jaw, grip tightening around the steering wheel. Sam wasn’t there to glare at so instead the car that drove in front of him would have to do. “I’m not high,” Dean repeated. “I’m not- I’m not goin’ t’crash.”

“I know.” The words held an empty feeling to them. A cold lie, of fake trust, and careless reassurance. Sam didn’t trust him. High or clean, Dean could see that. “Cas is already there, it’s easier.”

“Sure,” Dean mumbled, low enough that Sam wouldn’t have been able to hear him. He glanced over his shoulder, turning right. “Have a good day at work, lock away some assholes, or save some good people, whatever the hell you do.”

“See you.”

After the phone had become silent, Dean brought a hand to his face, running it through his hair. “Fuck,” He spat. “Fuck, fuck.”

The string of swears continued as Dean drove the last few blocks, parking at the curve of the apartment before he got out of the car and rushed into the apartment building. He jammed his thumb into the elevator button, one time, then a second, adn by the third time when no ding came, or any other indication of the elevator being fixed came he turned running up the staircase. Just reaching the fourth floor as Cas and the kids stepped out of Sam’s apartment.

“Dean?” Cas questioned. His blue eyes wandered up in down. Dean leant against the wall attempting to hide his gasps of breath, though with little success. His eyes went to Cas’s, the other man’s features soft, though that only lasted for seconds, before he pressed his lips in a tight line, straightening his posture even further. 

When Dean had finally caught his breath, he glanced to the kids. Jack who held Cas’s hand, a wide grin across his face, Ellie who stared at Dean with a harsh pout, and finally John who stood next to her, gaze on the ground. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m takin’ the kids to school.”

Cas’s harsh gaze stayed on Dean, Dean staring back with the same intensity. “Sam said you were busy.”

“Well i’m not anymore.”

Dean let a breath apart his lips, he could feel the tension. The way Cas stood stiff, voice monotone. Dean’s own defensive posture, and slightly hostile tone.

Even Jack had picked up on it. The child’s smile having dropped, feet shifting closer to Castiel. Close enough that he almost hid completely behind Cas.

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure if my brother is letting me drive my niece and nephew to school?” Dean asked, raising his voice the slightest bit. He looked at Cas with a raised eyebrow, jaw clenched, daring him to argue back.

Cas only stared back, lips parting slowly, “I suppose.” 

Cas gave him one last glare before turning, walking back to his own apartment.

Silence feel in the hall, and for a moment Dean didn’t dare break it, even if he could feel Ellie, and John’s stares. The way his blood boiled, fists clenched, was all he could focus on. The anger, the frustration. Fuck Cas. 

Dean let out a shaken, then inhaled.

“Okay,” He turned to the kids, forcing a smile across his face. “Let’s get you guys to school.”

He turned to the staircase, walking back down the staircase. He didn’t look back, though he could hear the kids footsteps following behind. Down the staircase, to the apartment lobby, adn out to the streets where his car was parked. 

“You two excited for your Christmas performance tonight?” Dean asked, once they’d gotten into the car, and pulled away from the curve. 

When no response came, he glanced into the rearview mirror. Both kids were looking out their doors window, lips pressed in a tight frown. “I’m excited to watch it.” 

Once again no reply came. 

The rest of the drive was done in silence. The music turned up to fill the awkward silence, only being turned down when they pulled up to the school.

“Have a good day.” Dean said. He pushed the passenger seat forward and opened the door to allow John out, Ellie following her brother, though before she could step out Dean stopped her. “Ellie,” he began. “What’s wrong?”

The young girl didn’t reply, instead looking back at Dean with a dramatic pout.

“Comeon, I can’t help if you don’t talk t’me.”

“You lied!” Dean raised an eyebrow at the young girl, waiting for her to give some explanation. “The tree! You pinky promised!” 

Dean’s expression dropped, as he started at Ellie. His stomach twisting, a discomfort coming to his chest. “Oh El,” Dean began, he kept his voice steady, though it did nothing to calm the other, Ellie’s features staying in a harsh glare. “I got caught up in some stuff. “I’m sorry.”

“You promised!”

“I’m so-”

Dean was never given the chance to finish, as Ellie stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the thirtieth chapter???  
> I honestly thought I wasn't going to make it past five chapter cause I really don't have the best track record when it comes to finishing fics!  
> Anyways thanks for making it this far with me!  
> Have a great day  
> lot's of love, paige


	31. Chapter thirty

“She still won’t talk to me,” Dean whispered. He lent against the gym wall, looking up to his brother, who stood next to him. Sam’s own gaze staying forward and on the children that stood at the other end of the gym, singing to Frosty the snowman.

It wasn’t like Dean didn’t want to pay attention, he had tried, though the kids were awful singers, most simply screaming. It was painful to watch, never mind listen to, and it wasn’t like it was even Ellie or John’s class. 

“Just give her time.”

“It’s been ten hours!”

Sam looked to Dean, even through the dim lighting, the disbelief clear across his face. “Dude,” Sam began, raising an eyebrow. “More time then that.”

“You should talk to her.”

When Sam didn’t reply, Dean let out a low groan, tilting his head up, to stare at the shadowed roof. He knew his brother was right, even if Dean wouldn’t admit that, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He missed getting to hear about Ellie’s day when he picked her up from school. Listen to her singing, and babble on stories. Instead he’d been lucky to get a glare. 

He kept his head tilted up until the sound of applause filled the room, finally looking back to the front, just in time to whatcha s the class that had been singing began to file off the bleachers. “I remember your school performances, you were so cute.” Dean said smiling slightly at the memory. Sam and his messy brown hair, his wide grin, that showed off his front missing tooth. The excitement he’d have before any show. “Remember your sleepy hollow performance? I can’t believe you joined drama club.”

“I was a kid.”

“You were sixteen,” Dean cried, laughing as he watched his brother’s face scrunch slightly. “I love going to those shows, they were awesome.”

“You just went cause of Cassie Robinson.” 

“No, she was just a really hot plus.” Dean looked back to the front of the gym, where the next class was almost done being set up. Sam had said Ellie’s class would be the third performance, Johns being the seventh, which he hoped was true; children and christmas carols were not a great mix. “Remember the magic shows you’d put on as a kid?”

Dean glanced back to his brother, as Sam let out a dramatic groan. If it weren’t for the dim lightning of the gym, Dean was sure Sam’s face would have been a bright red. “You were so cute, with your little top hat. You even had a magician name, what was it?”

“Eileen,” Sam replied.

“No-” Sam stepped around Dean, and towards a woman that had begun walking towards them. 

“Dean,” Sam gestured towards the woman, Dean’s eyes going from her face to down her body. She was small, with dark brown hair that fell to her lower back, and wore a simple t-shirt with jeans. Most of her features were casted by shadows from the dsm lighting, though it was easy to see they were soft and delicate, giving her a kind look.. “This is John’s ASL teacher, Eileen.”

Dean frowned looking back to his brother. “Since when’s he been learning sign language?”

“Last month, I told you this.”

“Well obviou-”

“Sam-” Elieen cut in, causing both brothers to look back up. She spoke in a monotone voice, one that reminded Dean vaguely of Cas’s, though unlike his hers was slightly choppier, and as she spoke she moved her hands. “Is Ellie with you?”

There was a moment of silence. Dean only able to hear the beating of his heart, eyes never leaving Sam, who somehow looked calm. How he did it, Dean didn ‘t know. His breathing seeming to become more of an effort, as a lump formed in his throat. 

“No,” Sam finally replied. He had his own hands raised to speak, though unlike Elieen he was slower.

As Elieen seemed to hesitate Dean looked back to her, her own gaze on Sam. “Her teacher-” she began, “She can’t find her.”

“What?” Dean snapped. From the corner of his eye he could see Sam’s harsh glare, though that did nothing to stop the clenching of his fists, or the beating of his heart that only continued to pick up pace. “You just fuckin’ lost her?”

From his left Dean could hear the sound of the children beginning to sing, a poorly done Jingle Bells. Despite that his gaze never faltered, Elieen looking back with the same intensity.

“Her teacher said she was acting weird.” Elieen finally said.

Dean looked to his brother, his breath hitching as he watched Sam’s expression finally drop in panic. Sam’s hand running across his lower face where his beard had begun to grow out. Dean would have to force him to shave soon.

“Crap,” Sam whispered. Though Dean could barely hear him over the music that played. He stepped closer to his brother, body tense ready to reach out if Sam needed him, or if he was to crumble like he looked so close to doing. “Crap, crap.”

“Hey-” Dean began, in what he hoped was a soothing voice despite his own growing panic. “I’ll search the school for her, you start asking around.”

Sam at first didn't reply, only looking back with a locked jaw, and wide eyes. Though it was hard to tell through the lighting Dean hoped the glossiness of Sam’s eyes were just his imagination.

“Okay,” Sam finally whispered.

Dean nodded in agreeance.

He took a step around Eileen, beginning to walk to the gym’s exit, though after only a few steps, he stopped. “Sammy,” Dean called, his brother looking to him with his wide puppy dog eyes. “We’ll find her.”

Sam only gave a small nod in agreeance before Dean turned back around. 

Guilt tugged at his stomach as he made his way through the school, mixing with the racing of his heart, and uneven breaths. Had it been his fault, Dean wasn’t sure, though he couldn’t help but feel that it was. 

He hadn’t thought it was that big of a deal at least not big enough for Ellie to have gone missing.

If he’d just shown up. Missed one party. Spent one night sober. 

The thoughts continued as Dean ran through the school halls, checking any door that would pull open, or small gap that Ellie could fit in. Under water fountains, behind garbage cans, anything that he could find. 

“Ellie?” Dean yelled, his voice and footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. “Ellie?” 

He stopped into the main entrance, eyes glancing across the open area. He scanned it twice before beginning to turn around, taking a step back the way he came when he heard the smallest sniffle.

“Ellie?”

When no reply came Dean turned walking into the center of the room and looking around. 

For a moment he thought he’d imagine the noise, the room stood in such silence it was impossible to imagine anyone else other than himself there. Soon another small noise came, and Dean turned, looking to the corner of the room where a large Christmas tree was placed.

Dean took a step towards it, continuing to do so until he was next to it, and was able to see Ellie through the branches. The young girl having pressed herself in the small gap between the walls and tree.

“Hey,” Dean began slowly. He paused as Ellie turned to him, the trees lights casting shadows across her tear stained cheeks. “Why’re you hiding on us?”

Ellie only stared back, her face scrunched the slightest as tears began rolling from her eyes, though she made no attempt to move.

Dean could feel his heart drop as she began to silently cry. His jaw clenched slightly. “Let’s get you out of there.” 

When he began pushing the tree branches to the side, Ellie let out a loud screech. “No!” She sobbed, pushing herself further away from Dean and closer to the wall, her silent crying becoming loud sobs. “No!”

“Hey, El,” Dean began attempting to sooth her sobbing. Though even to himself his voice sounded frantic and shaky. He brought his arms back to his side. “It’s okay I just want t’help.”

“No!” Ellie sobbed. Despite Dean having lowered his arms, she continued to press herself as close to the wall as she could manage. 

“El-”

“No!” She screamed, “I do- no- go!”

“I’m going to get your dad”

“No!” Ellie shook her head, “I want mommy.”

Dean’s expression dropped, his eyes staying on Ellie, no longer watching with panic, but worry and concern, as she tried to sob. Slowly she crumbled from pushing herself against the wall, to a small ball on the floor. Her sobs never dying out.

Dean pushed the branches a side, hesitantly stepping a bit closer to pick her up.

“I- wh- I- mommy,” Ellie sobbed, though made no attempt to push Dean away as he wrapped his arms around her, picking her up. He brought her to his chest, Ellie immediately barring her face into his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and legs around his waist, body shaking against Dean’s arms with each sob.

“I want mommy.” Ellie sobbed again.

Dean didn’t reply, instead running a hand along her back, repeating the action as he walked back through the hallways, hopefully in the direction of Sam. He wasn’t sure how to reply. There wasn’t anything he could to make it better, no matter how much it broke his heart.

As they got back to the auditorium, Ellies sobs had died down, though her body continued to shake, gasps for breaths the only sound coming. 

“Elllie,” Dean turned at the sound of his brother.

Sam ran to them, immediately taking Ellie from Dean's arms and pulling the young girl into a hug, holding her tightly against his chest. Ellie hugged back, beginning to sob into Sam’s shoulder.

Sam’s expression dropped, once again into worry. “Honey- El,” Sam ran a hand through her hair, attempting to brush the strands from her face. “What’s wrong.”

“She want’s Jess.”

Sam looked up, and immediately Dean could feel his chest tighten, heart ringing through his head. Sam’s expression had never looked so heartbroken, eyes wide, lips parted, then closed, then parted again, as if trying to say something, though never being able to find the words. 

Dean took a step forward, Sam suddenly seeming weighed down with Ellie in his arms. “I think we should get her home.”

Sam only nodded eyes still on his sobbing daughter. “Can you-” Sam took a forced breath, “Can you get John, I’ll talk to their teachers.” 

“Okay.”

After finding John in a group of other boys Dean led his nephew back through the school, and into the parking lot. The December air chilled, as the walked to Dean’s car, though still no snow fell. 

Once they reached the impala Dean leant against the hood, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. He tilted his head up, eyes darting across the murky black sky, not a star visible. From his right he could hear John's breath, low and steady, the grinding of gravel as he shifted and then once again just breathing.

Dean didn’t know what to say, it was the longest he’d been alone with the boy, as he more often than not tried to avoid it. He felt guilty. He hated it. He wished he could be with his nephew so much but no matter how much he tried, all he could feel around the boy was guilt, dread. See his dad, see nineteen year old Sam, with his goofy smile, and bright eyes.

A breath parted his lips, and Dean finally looked to the boy next to him, who’s gaze was on the ukulele in his hands.

“Do you,” Dean began, his voice seeming far too loud in the silent parking lot. The young boy looked upw with his wide eyes, the exact same look Sam and held as a child. “Do you like playing?”

John looked back down to the ukulele, then back to Dean before giving the smallest nod.

“Could I hear you play?”

John gave another small nod, and raised the ukulele. 

Dean watched as the child adjusted his fingers, pressing his left fingers to the strings at the neck while he strummed his right thumb and index finger to the strings of the body. The sound that came off wasn’t perfect, there were mistakes that even Dean, who’d given up on the ukulele quicker then he’d started, could make out. Despite that it sounded good, a slow toon, that Dean didn’t recognize. 

When John strummened one last time,a ndthe ukulele’s tune died out, Dean opened his mouth to respond, though before he could Sam cut him off. 

“Wow buddy,” Dean looked up at the sound of his brother who walked towards them, Ellie in his arms. Her sobs could no longer be heard, but she kept her face buried in Sam’s shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “That’s sounding awesome.”

Dean pulled the keys from his jacket pocket, moving around to the drivers door. “How’s she doin’?

“El do you want to answer Dean?” Dean unlocked the door, glancing back up to Sam, the other looking to his silent daughter. Sam looked back up when it became clear Ellie wasn’t going to talk. “She’s managing.”

Dean gave a nod as he pulled open the door and got into the driver seat. 

Most of the drive was done in silence, Dean constantly glancing back to Ellie even when she’d fallen asleep, or to Sam who stared out the passenger window, an exhausted lok across his face. Through the drive a dreaded feeling weighed down on Dean’s chest. One that even blaring his music couldn’t seem to fix. One that stayed, as he pulled up outside of the stadium, adn said his goodbyes to his brother, and continued to stay as he was dragged from makeup to the dressing room. 

Even when he stood to the side of the stage, waiting for the performer before him to finish, the dread continued. 

Dean lent against the wall, his hand wrapped around the neck of his guitar, eyes forward on the bare wall across from him. To his right Azazel talked though he couldn’t care enough to listen, his mind in other places. Ellie, John, Sam, Cas. The problems seemed to pile up with no way to sort them.

“Are you high?” Dean shook his head.

Not yet at least.

“Then are you listening to me?” Azazel asked , the annoyance in his voice clear. God Dean wished Crowley had come. 

Dean finally looked to the other, “where’s Lee?”

Azzal raised an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between disbelief and anger. “You go on in five minutes and you want to get fucked up?” Dean didn’t reply, looking back to his shoes. they weren’t his usual boots, instead a nicer pair without stringing laces, or tears, much like his new AC/DC shirt they’d put him in. Something Dean would wear any other day, just newer, and nicer looking. “Could you be sober for at least a night?”

When Dean once again didn’t reply Azazel let out a huff and walked away, Dean’s eyes finally glancing up to make sure Azazel was far enough away. “You want to get fucked up?” Dean mocked the other in a hushed voice, “Fuck you.”

He let his head hang back, studying the roof above, until one of the crew members tapped his shoulder, and led him to the center of the stage, the curtains in front of him closed.

They stayed that way as the band behind him quickly set up their instruments, doing any final tuning. Dean’s own grip around his guitar tightening. He didn’t want to be there.

He wanted to be high.

When everything was okay.

When he was happy.

He wanted to have the syringe in hand.

Feel the euphoria course through his veins.

He could feel his heart hammer as the curtains began to pull open. Eyes darting to the stage side, did he have time to run. 

A breath parted his lips, the ringing of his ears all he could hear. 

Then another breath, as the curtains opened further, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I post I get more and more shocked that I've made it this far. It's just really shocking, cause I have zero attention span (something that's very clear on my ACNH island, sorry to my villagers), and yah I'm just kinda shocked.  
> So yah, once again thank you so much for keeping with me, and my very, very bad updating schedule (I've been spending a lot fo time playing animal crossing)  
> So I hope y'all have had/are having an amazing Thursday!!  
> Thanks for reading!  
> lot's of love, paige


	32. Chapter thirty one

Trigger warning: drug use 

“You shouldn’t have fuckin’ brought Azazel with us,” Dean grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked down to Lee who was crouched on the floor, preparing them each a needle, though the other didn’t look up. “He’s just tryin’ to get me fired.”

“He wasn’t taking no for an answer,” Lee said.

Dean didn't reply, instead leaning against the basement wall, glancing around the darkened room. They were the only ones there, the rest of the room filled mostly by boxes, with the exception of an old arcade machine pushed in the corner. It was quiet, the only sound ebing their breathing and the distant sound of the raves music from above.

They’d just arrived from the music festival, minutes before, accompanied by Azazel much to Dean’s annoyance. Of course as Lee had promised, they were quick to lose him, and make their way to the basement. Away from anyone sober enough to realize what they were doing.

“Here.” Dean looked back down, his eyes glancing to Lee for only a second, before wondering to synrge he offered. Clear liquid filled it, swirling slightly as Dean took it in his own hand. “You know,” Lee began, “I’ve got some heroin, we could have some fun.”

“I told you,” Dean brought the needle to see his forearm, “I’m not stopping you from tryin’.” 

“And I told you that’s lonely.”

Dean gazed across the skin of his forearm, blue veins clear against his pale skin, standing out clearly. The tip of the needle rested against the most visible vein, yet to break skin, cold against Dean's raising temperature.

A breath parted his lips, and he pushed the needle in, his fingers going to plunger. The plastic was smooth to the touch, another breath parting his lips as he slowly pulled it out, blood filling the needle. Then another breath before he pushed it down.

The night quickly became a blur of drugs and alcohol. Spent jumping between the basement and dance floor, with occasional breaks at the bar, to grab a drink or two. Singing and dancing, pressed to some girl, then being dragged around by Lee. The night spiralled into a mix of euphoria, and joy, the problems from early long forgotten.

It was sometime after his tenth dose when him and Lee ended up at the bar. Both slumped over the counter, waiting for their drinks, exhausted as the high wore off.

With his elbows on the counters, Dean covered his face with his hands. Squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the spinning , though it did nothing, the music was too loud, blaring through his head. The lights too bright even with his eyes shut.

“You two sem to be having fun.” Dean raised his head, even if he knew who’d spoken. He could recognize Azazel’s cocky, mocking tone anywhere. 

The other man had taken a seat next to Dean, a smirk across his face, eyes darting Dean. Surely enjoying his hung over, withdrawn state, that left him almost too exhausted to speak. Just five more minutes. That’s what Dean had continuously told himself, five more minutes and they’d have their drinks, and be back in the basement. Five more minutes, though those five minutes seemed to drag on, ticking by as slow as possible.

“Fuck,” Dean spat, with as much despite as he could muster, though even to himself it sounded more exhausted then anything. “Off.”

“And miss out on this show?” Dean sent him a glare, though Azazel’s smile only widend. “Does Richard know?”

Dean only clenched his jaw, blood boiling. He looked forward, eyes staying on the rows of alcohol that lined the bars' walls. five more minutes. Five more minutes, and he’d be high. Five more minutes, and everything would be okay. 

“It would be a shame if he found out.”

Five more minutes, and the boiling of his skin would be unnoticable, the racing of his heart welcoming, and the ringing of his ears similar to music. Just five more minutes till he had his drink in hand.

“If you lost your job, how would you afford your coke then?”

A huff came from Azazel, as Dean once again didn’t reply. 

“I have my car here,” Dean turned this time, the way Azazel’s tone changed piquing his interest. Slow and drawn out, as if making sure every word was herd, turning Dean’s stomach in worry. “I could give you the keys and we can see who else you can kill.”

One breath. 

One heartbeat.

That was all that passed before Dean stood, and without hesitation through a right hook. His fist colliding with the side of Azazel's face.

He raised his left to throw another, though Lee was soon there pulling him back. His friends voice blurring with the music, all just background noise to the ringing in Dean’s head, and the beating of his heart.  
One more punch that’s all he wanted, or maybe two, as many as it took to see Azazel’s face bleed, or bring some calm to Dean’s boiling anger. 

Despite that he didn’t fight back as Lee dragged him away. His feet stumbling under him, never catching balancing as he was dragged through sweaty crowds, and back to the basement stairwell. Azazel’s pained expression still burning in his mind. The way the other had held his face in pain. Fucking good. Dean wished he’d gotten to throw another. 

“What the hell man.” Lee cried when the door has closed, leaving almost chest to chest at the top of the staircase. The lights above so dim they were almost off, though even still they burned Dean’s eyes. 

“he was being an asshole.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just deck him.” 

Dean shook his head, stepping around his friend instead of responding. He walked back down the staircase, his footsteps echoing through the basement as he got back into the storage room. It was left exactly the same as since they’d last been there though now a small group of others had gathered around the old arcade machine to snort lines. 

He lent back against the wall where they did the first hit. Lee joined him, crouching to the floor to prepare them each a needle.

“Add the heroin.”

“What?”

“Add the heroin,” Dean repeated, this time speaking with a harshness to his tone.

Lee looked up for a second before he looked back down and did as asked, preparing the heroin, and then mixing it with the cocaine, before he filled the needles, handing Dean his own.

He took the syringe, staring at the slightly foggy liquid that filled it. He could feel his skin tingle, even from just looking at it, the way his arm would numb, and jaw lock slightly. 

Slowly he brought the syringe to his forearm, the needle just touching where he could see a blue vein. He pushed it down, unable to feel the pinch that came with the needle breaking his skin, and then pulled the plunger back to be sure he’d hit a vein. Sure enough blood filled the syringe, mixing with the clear drug.

Contrasting in the most elegant way possible.

The most addictive way. 

Dean let out a breath, giving himself one last second to stare, before he pressed down on the plunger of the syringe. The feeling of the cocaine immediately taking its effects.

The familiar energy. The adrenaline, and happiness coursing through his veins, growing stronger with each beat of his heart. The distant ringing in his ears. Everything familiar, though with it a different feeling, a warmth that spread through his chest, and a hazy feeling to his head.

He pulled the needle from his arm, letting it fall from his grip, before he looked up, gaze lingering around the room. Studying the way the boxes stacked on top of each other. There’d been a problem, something that had caused him pain, though he couldn't name it any longer. In fact Dean couldn’t imagine life not being perfect.

“Dean.” His name came from the right, though as Dean tried to look away from the boxes, his head wouldn’t turn quick enough. Everything moving in slow motion, whoever was speaking seeming worlds away. “Dean.”

“Dean.”

“Dean.”

A hand was pressed to his shoulder, and Dean immediately turned, meeting Lee who had a wide grin across his face. “You good man?” 

“I’m fuckin’ awesome,” Dean cried. He could feel a grin spread across his own face, as Lee laughed. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“Cause your a fuckin’ bitch.” 

Dean laughed, eyes falling back to the boxes, he didn’t know why, but there was something incredibly interesting about them. The way they stacked, some stacked on the edge of others, seeming on the verge of falling off. 

He didn’t know how long he stared whether it be for only a few seconds or years, but he stared until Lee grabbed his wrist. Dean's head immediately turned back to his friend, though before he could say anything Lee was dragging him to the exit. Dean’s feet stumbling under him. 

“What the hell man,” Dean cried, though he made no attempt to pull his arm back. Instead stumbling behind, letting Lee lead him back to the stairwell and up the staircase. 

“Karaoke,” Lee replied.

“Where?”

“Bar!”

Dean laughed, this time not making another argument as he let his friend drag him, back up the staircase, and through the raves crowd. Dean’s legs seeming to feel heavier and heavier with each step they took, arms growing itchier. Was that normal, Dean wasn’t sure. 

When they’d finally gotten out of the club, and were back on the streets, Dean pulled his arm back. Stopping Lee in his tracks. 

“What?” Lee asked.

Dean looked down, his legs still held him up, though he could no longer feel them, mind to focus on how itchy his arms had become. “My legs don’t work anymore.”

“You're standing!” Dean looked back to his friend, holding the other’s gaze. He stared back before slowly sitting on the sidewalk, then laying back so his gaze was on the sky. 

From his left he could hear Lee speak. Something about him going to reserve their spot for karaoke, though Dean didn’t reply, instead continuing to stare up, even as the sound of Lee’s footsteps grew distant. 

Dean’s eyes darted across the muggy black sky. He could feel the energy coursing through his skin, electric and hot, seemingly endless. It made him want to move, to talk, and dance, and sing, and be alive, though something about the heroine's warmth kept him still, staring up at the sky. 

Not a star visible, not a trace of snow. Just cold and black. 

Even still Dean watched in wonder.

His gaze didn’t leave the sky until he felt Lee grab at his arm dragging him to his feet. 

“Come on,” Lee insisted, he began walking away, towards a bar a few stores away. Faster than Dean would have appreciated, his own legs still heavy, only getting worse with each step. “It’s our turn.”

“What’re we singing?”

“River.”

Dean let out a loud groan, just as they came up to the bar's entrance. He tilted his head back, hoping to be as dramatic as possible, “Fuck man,” Dean explained. He looked back to his friend, glaring at the other. “What happened to good fuckin music, you know Cherry pie- That other one.”

Lee turned away, opening the bar door, “loosin’ up, sing somethin’ from this decade.”

Dean didn’t reply, and instead followed Lee into the bar. Despite his arguments, he didn’t completely hate the idea of rapping. He loved to hear his voice when he was high, the way it rang through his head, and rolled off his tongue. He loved everything about it, and while rapping, he’d get to hear it a lot. 

He followed Lee through the bar, to the back where a small stage had been set up, a microphone stand in the center. He couldn’t remember entering the bar, or leaving the club. He couldn’t remember standing on the stage turning to face the rest of the bar, or Lee grabbing the microphone.

A breath parted his lips, then another. Seeming to shake his whole body.

There was a pause, where Dean could only hear an odd ringing in his head. Something that sounded similar to a fan, or the shaking of aluminum foil, and then the music blared, and Lee began the chorus. 

“I've been a liar, been a thief. Been a lover, been a cheat,” Dean watched as Lee, walking across the stage confidently. He was good, and Dean had told him that before, though sober Lee never enjoyed being on stage. "All my sins need holy water, feel it washing over me.”

The cyprus continued on until the last line was sang. Lee then stepped to Dean, handing him the microphone to begin the first verse. 

Dean brought it to his face and for a second, his eyes only wandered across the crowd. Most people were sat at tables, talking, though a few people had become interested in them, one person with their phone raised. 

“He’s coming home with his neck scratched to catch flack. Sweat jackets and dress slacks, mismatched,” Dean rapped, the words he’d memorized falling easily. He could feel the adrenaline rising as he continued to sing, the odd noise still ringing through his head. “On his breath's Jack, he's a sex addict. And she just wants to exact revenge and get back. It’s a chess match, she’s on his back like a jacket 

“She's kept track of all his Internet chats.”

“And guess who just happens to be movin' on to the next.” With his free hand Dean gestured to himself. He attempted to take step to the side to walk across the front of the stage, though his head spun at the movement, his legs seeming too exhausted to corporate, leaving him tanding at the front, “Actually, just shit on my last chick and she has what my ex lacks.”

“'Cause she loves danger, psychopath.”

“And you don’t fuck with no man’s girl,” Dean took a hesitant breath before continuing. “I wish I knew that.”

He’d never found singing exhausting, especially high, though as he continued to sing through the first verse, each line seemed harder than the last. His lungs never seeming to fill with enough air, arm’s becoming just as heavy as his legs. The world seemed to spin, or fade, Dean wasn’t sure.

By the time he’d rapped the last line and handed the microphone off to Lee to sing the chorus, he was gasping for breaths. Body seeming on the verge of collapsing under his own weight. Heart somewhere between hammering, and stopping.

He couldn’t focus on Lee, no matter how hard, even when the other was right next him handing over the microphone. 

Dean hadn’t been panicked, he'd had bad trips before, that was until he raised the microphone to his lips and the words refused to come. “One-one night” He gasped for a breath, waiting for his lungs to fill though nothing came.

“-Stand.” He whispered, through the ringing in his ears he couldn’t hear his own voice. Was he even still singing?

Dean staggered forward, the microphone falling from his grip. He gasped for another breath, raising one for balance, while the other went to his head in an attempt to stop the spinning. His heart should’ve been racing. From the fear, from the cocaine, from the adrenaline, though Dean wasn’t sure it even beat. 

He took another staggered step forward, grabbing onto the microphone stand for balance, though as he lent against it it fell to the ground.

He was going to die.

He was going to die.

Dean gasped for a breath.

He was going to leave Ellie, and John.

His eyes were heavy.

Cas

The ringing through his ears had become all he could hear.

And Sam.

“Sam.” He choked out, letting his eyes flutter shut for seconds. It felt so good, to be consumed by the darkness.

Sam who’d already lost their mother, father, and Jess.

He could feel a pair of hands press to his back, as the darkness consumed his vision. His mouth opened gasping for one last breath. 

“Sammy-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone for inconstancy of my chapters, I fell back into my eating disorder for the past two weeks which gave me zero energy to write, or really do anything. But! I'm back on track, and hopefully will be able to update more on schedule.  
> On a different note, remember when we could go to parties and stuff, I never went to any, but that was cool when it was an option.   
> Anyways, have a great Wednesday?? I think   
> Lot's of love, paige


	33. Chapter thirty two

Beeping.

Soft, slow, steady, beeping.

That was the first thing Dean could hear when he came to, a breath parting his lips, eyes still shut. He could hear a shuffling from his right, then once again nothing but the beeping. His whole body ached. His mind spinning even with his eyes closed, skin it’s usual boiling temperature.

He hadn’t died, though as he laid there in pain, part of him wished he had. 

“Shit,” Dean mumbled. He raised a hand to his face, rubbing it across his eyes, as they fluttered open, the bright lights burning.

It was another moment before his eyes adjusted to the light, his gaze landing first on the person to his left, Cas.

Dean felt his breath hitch, eyes staying on the other, heart hammering in his chest. He stared for another moment, as if Cas would disappear the moment he looked away. He then tilted his head to the right, where Lee stood, and then down to Ellie, who lay pressed to his side, face buried into his chest, one arm around his stomach. 

His right arm was wrapped around her. The skin a raw red, some places covered in bandages though most were left for Dean to see. He remembered his skin being itchy, he remembered it at times being all he could think about, though he’d never remembered actually scratching, never mind enough to cause bleeding.

He let his gaze linger for another second before he looked to Lee. “where’s Sam?” Dean finally whispered, the rest of the hospital room was empty, other than another unoccupied bed a few feet away, and the few machines that surrounded him. 

“In the hall,” Lee replied. “He was having a hard time getting John to come in.”

Dean nodded. He looked at Lee for another moment before hesitantly turning to Cas, eyes meeting the other’s, “Jack?”

“With Logan’s mother.” 

Dean nodded again, finally looking back down to Ellie. The room once again sat in silence, only broken by the beeping of the heart monitor. Then a shuffling came from his right, followed by Cas’s voice. “I’m going to tell Sam you’ve woken.”

Dean didn’t reply, continuing to stare at his niece.

“Ellie,” Dean whispered. He raised a hand as the young girl looked up with her blood shot eyes, using it to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She had the same look that Sam often held, exhausted, though unlike her dad she didn’t hold the tears back, instead letting them stain her cheeks. “How about you go with Cas to find your dad.”

“No,” she sobbed.

She wrapped her arms around Dean’s neck, burying her face into his shoulder. 

For a moment Dean didn’t argue. Instead wrapping his arms around her shaking body, resting his chin against the top of her head. It felt good to have her in his arms. Innocent. As if the night before had never happened. As if everything was perfect.

He let his eyes flutter shut, holding her tight for another moment before finally pulling away. “I promise you can come right back,” Dean said. He spoke in a soft tone, though even if he wanted to he wasn’t sure he could speak much louder. “I just need to talk to Lee.”

Ellie raised her head, looking up with wide brown eyes. “Pinky promise?”

He lifted his pinky finger, locking his finger with hers, “Pinky promise.” 

Without another argument Ellie got off the hospital bed. Giving Dean one last look before she went to Cas, and followed him out of the hospital room. 

When Dean was sure she was gone, he finally looked to Lee. His friend still stood to his right, looking back with a worried gaze. 

“What happened last night?” Dean whispered.

Lee opened his mouth, though at first no words came out, causing Dean’s stomach to twist. “Opioid overdose,” He finally whispered, “you-” Lee took a hesitant breath, his gaze dropping to the floor, then back to Dean. “You passed out, so the bartender called the ambulance. They made it just in time.”

Overdose. He hadn’t needed Lee to tell him, he had already known, though part of him had hoped it wasn’t true. Part of him had been convinced it wasn’t true. Hearing it out loud, hearing the words fall from Lee’s lips, had destroyed that hope, leaving him with the brutal reality.

Overdose.

He’d overdosed.

What would Sam be thinking. 

“Where’s my clothing?” Dean grumbled. He began pushing himself up, continuing to do so, even as his head spun, the walls blurring together. 

“Hey,” Lee stepped forward, pressing his hand to Dean’s shoulders. He didn’t use much force, though enough to keep Dean down. “Just relax, you need rest.”

“I’m fine,” Dean spat. Despite his arguments, he laid back in the bed, his body aching too much to fight.

He crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at the wall across from him. It was painted a boring white, completely bare of any decoration much like every other wall, and everything else in the room. Still it was better than looking at Lee.

“How long has he been here?” Dean finally whispered, keeping his gaze forward.

“Who?”

“Cas.”

Lee took a deep breath. “About an hour, he got here at eight. Dean-” He could hear the shake to Lee’s voice, the uncertainty. “He’s worried about you- we all are.”

Dean didn’t reply, instead looking down to the IV in his hand, letting his gaze stay there. The way it raised his skin, the tape they used to keep it down, the clear liquid that field the tube it attached to. Even when a shuffling came from his right he continued to stare at the needle, the clear liquid, the feeling of it in his arm.

“I’m goin’ t’grab some breakfast, want anything?” Dean continued to stare, breath low, the beating of his heart ringing through his ears.

He kept his gaze on the IV as Lee left, and then for a breath, then another, the minutes ticking by. He couldn’t find the energy to look anywhere else, until the sound of footsteps came, he swore if it was Lee.

“Fuck o-” Dean began, though he cut himself as he looked up meeting Cas’s gaze. 

Dean watched as the other stepped in, thoughts from that night passing through his head. His hands across the other’s body. His breath low. The way it had felt. The way he wanted to do it again, the way he still wanted to do it again. Would he ever be able to look at Cas and not think about that night, Dean hoped so.   
Cas walked to the foot of the bed. For a moment he didn’t speak, only staring with his intense gaze, before his lips parted. “What were you thinking?” Castiel asked, in a harsh tone.

Dean opened his mouth, not sure how to reply. He’d been expecting a lot of things, but anger wasn’t one. 

“Oh I don’t know,” Dean finally snapped back. “I thought it’d be a good day to overdose, thought I'd take as much fuckin’ heroin as I could, and see if it’d kill me!”

“You could have died.”

Dean didn’t reply, instead letting himself, for the first since he’d woken, study the other. His blue eyes wide and tinged red, skin colourless, lips in a tight line. He didn’t look hurt, just exhausted. His usual perfect posture now slumped the slightest bit, shoulders weighed down by his trench coat. He had been staring back at Dean intensely before he slowly took a step forward, then another, until he was next to Dean, when he lent in carefully pulling Dean in a hug.

Without hesitation Dean wrapped his one arm around Cas, leaving the other with the IV at his side. He buried his face into Cas’s shoulder, the trench smelling of damp, though still warm. Cas was always so warm. 

“Do you need anything?” Cas asked as he pulled away. A concerned expression now clear across his face as he watched Dean, head tilted to the side.

“I’m good.” Dean shifted in the bed, sitting up a bit more proper. “Just sit.”

“Water?”

“Really Cas it’s fine.”

The other nodded, taking a seat next to the bed. Dean tilted his head to stare at Cas, his own gaze meeting the others. “How are you feeling?” Cas asked, his voice low, yet steady. 

Dean didn’t reply at first, instead his lips parting. He wanted to lie, for Cas’s sake, and his own, though he was exhausted, from being awake, from lying from everything. “Shitty,” He finally whispered. “Really fuckin’ shitty.”

Cas;’s gaze stayed on Dean’s though he slowly raised his arm, lazing his fingers through Dean’s. His skin wasn’t it's usual warmth, or maybe Dean’s was just boiling, instead cold, cooling Dean’s rising temperature. Still comforting as he always ways, perfect and right. As if Cas’s hand had been made to fit into Dean’s.

“How’s Jack,” Dean asked. His gaze dropped to their hands, unable to look at the other for any longer. From just under the sleeve of Cas’s trench coat he could see bruising around the other’s wrist, though he didn’t say anything. He’d just gotten Cas back, he wasn’t willing to lose him over another pointless fight.

“He’s excited for christmas.”

A small smile gazed Dean’s lips. “That’s cute, what’s he asking for?”

“A puppy.”

“Shit, go big or go I a guess.” Dean finally looked up to the other, meeting Castiel blue eyes. He could feel his breath hitch, eyes not leaving the other’s, a breath barely parting his lips. He could stare forever, without a doubt in his mind. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

They sat hand in hand, till Sam came. The only sound filling the room being the beeping from the heart monitor, the room otherwise silent. Neither Cas nor Dean speaking. He didn’t want to, he just wanted to feel Cas’s hand in his own, stare at his worried expression, his blue eyes. 

Dean didn’t pull his hand away when Sam walked in, instead turning to look at his brother, the kids not following behind him. “Cas,” Sam asked. He looked towards Castiel, his gaze had yet to meet Dean’s. “Do you mind if I talk to Dean.”

“Not at all.” Despite that Cas didn’t move.

“Alone.”

“Oh, of course.” This time, much to Dean’s distres, Cas stood, hand still laced with Dean's. He didn’t want to let go, he didn’t want to lose the comfort that Cas brought, he didn’t want to be alone with Sam.

“Goodbye Dean,”

“See you.”

Cas untwined his fingers, and stepped away from the bed. He didn’t give Dean another look as he walked out of the hospital room, only stopping to say a quick goodbye to Sam. 

“Heya Sammy,” Dean greeted, forcing a wide grin across his face as he turned to face his brother. He began to push himself up to sit properly though as pain flared across his body, he decided being half sat up would have to do. “Where are the kids’?”

Sam didn’t reply, instead silently walking to the end of Dean’s bed. His eyes going from the floor finally to Dean. His gaze held the same exhausted look as they always did when it came to Dean’s drug use, though his eyes no longer just held a red ting, and instead tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“We-” Sam began, though he was stopped as he gasped for a breath. “We need to talk.”

“Yah, you’re a fuckin’ sissy.”

The moment he spoke Dean felt his stomach drop, regretting his own words, the night before, every other night before that. He’d wished the overdose had just killed him, at least then he wouldn’t be causing Sam anymore pain.

“I’m not going to ignore this anymore-

“We never were!”

“Yes we were,” Sam snapped, immediately hushing Dean. “I would try to talk to you and you’d tell me to fuck off, or i’d try to talk when you got home but I coudln’t cause I just relived you were fuckin’ alive, Dean your sick!”

As Sam screamed tears rolled his cheeks, eyes never leaving Dean’s. 

Dean took a hesitant breath, though even as Sam paused Dean didn’t dare speak, or even move. “You’re an addcit,” Sam continued, “and don’t give me that fuckin’ it’s not like i’m doin heroin line, your doing heroin, you’re doing coke, you’re killing yourself.”

Sam took a deep breath, and for a moment Dean didn’t think his brother would continue speaking. 

“Dean,” Sam whispered, voice hollow, weak, echoing through the hospital room. “I needed you, I needed your help.”

Dean could feel a lump forming in his throat as he watched Sam stare at him with tears. Wanting to reach forward, pull his brother into a hug, though he couldn’t find the energy to move. He didn't think Sam would’ve wanted him to anyways.

“And then you met Cas, and you wanted to help him so much, and I just,” Sam raised a hand rubbing across his cheeks, “I know it’s selfish but I wanted you to help me. I wanted you to make everything like you did when we were kids. I just- I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.”

“I didn’t ask you to watch.”

“Dean-”

“Sam.”

He couldn’t find the energy to be mad, or feel guilt, all he could feel was the exhaustion. The weight of his limbs, the effort it took just to keep his eyes opened, the way with every passing blink, he swore he got closer to falling asleep, though somehow he managed to keep them open. Staring back at Sam, who held the same exhausted expression he was sure sat across his own features.

“You need to go to rehab.”

“Fuck you.”

“Dean,” Sam pleaded. “I didn't get involved when you missed decorating the tree, or in LA, or any other time, but I can’t keep ignoring it.” Dean clenched his teeth, a burning at his nose beginning as he watched Sam look back with wide, bloodshot eyes. “Please go to rehab.”

“Fuck you,” Dean repeated.

“Then you can’t see the kids.”

If it weren’t for the heart monitors continued beating Dean would have sworn his heart had skipped a beep, lips parting unsure how to reply. “Don’t make us sound like some divorced couple,” Dean finally mustered. Tone light despite the fear that began to twist his stomach.

“They’ve gone through enough,” Sam said. “You’re unreliable, you're being selfish. You make promises to Ellie, then break them, You ignore John.” As Sam spoke his voice raised, until it cracked at the end. “They deserve better.” 

“Please Dean, just think about it.” Sam paused, taking a deep breath, “I don’t want to lose you too”

This time Dean didn’t reply, instead watching with his lips pressed tightly together as Sam began walking around the room. Opening the blinds to allow some sunlight in, moving Dean’s phone so he could reach it, then placing a glass of water next to it.

“The nurse will be here soon to do a final check up then you can leave.” Sam said as he stepped back towards the doorway, pulling his leather jacket closer to his body. He no longer spoke with the fear, or anger from before, instead calm, almost emotionless. “The impala’s in the parking lot, me and the kids are going t’take the subway.”

Sam stared for a moment, Dean only staring back until Sam turned away, walking back to the doorway.

“Sammy.” The word fell before Dean could think, his breath hitching. He didn’t know if he could continue, let the words fall from his lips, admit defeat, admit weakness.

“Rehab,” Dean began, “I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday everyone!!  
> First off, I know I've said it before but thank you so much for the comments, and just reading this, and just it really means a lot, so thank you is much.  
> second off! have a lovely weekend everyone! I hope you get to enjoy yourself!  
> lot's of love, paige


	34. Chapter thirty three

Dean remembered his first time switching schools. He’d been five years old, only having gone to school for three months before his dad had decided they couldn't live in Lawrence any longer, and moved them across the country to Idaho. 

He remembered standing behind his dad as John talked to the secretary. 

The walls being bare, the whole school seeming so big.

Not wanting to leave Sam who was only three, or his dad, or Kansas.

Being terrified, wanting to be held and comforted by his mom who’d died only months previous. 

Most clearly he remembered his dad pulling him to the side, as Dean had burst into tears, and telling him to man up, that crying wouldn’t do any good. 

Standing in the rehab facility reminded him of that day, the walls a bare white, his heart racing with fear, Sam stood slightly in front of him, the way his father had years before. This time it brought some comfort, a shield from the reality Dean had yet to accept. 

“Will you be a part of our inpatient program or outpatient?” the secretary asked. 

“Inpatient.”

“And will you be participating in the thirty day program, or in ninety day program?”

She looked up to Dean, at the same time Sam looking to him. “I was told I could stay for two weeks.” 

“Withdrawal symptoms last for about ten weeks, in the rehab facility we help make that time easier to go through by offering on call therapists, a healthy lifestyle, and medical care if needed.” The women spoke in a kind but robotic tone, as she repeated the speech she’d surely said a million times before. “Our thirty day program is incredibly beneficial, but patients find the most success in our ninety day program.” 

“That was a cute little airplane speech, but I gotta record an album soon so two weeks will do.” 

This time the security didn’t answer, instead writing something across the paper in front her. She then grabbed a second paper, handing it to Dean. 

He looked at the women for another second before finally letting his gaze drop to the paper in his hand. A schedule printed in black text, Dean’s name across the top left corner. 

“This will be your schedule while you’re here,” the women spoke, though Dean didn’t look back, instead looking over the activities they’d plan. Wake up 6:30, they had optional yoga after that, then a therapist led group session. “It can be changed as needed.” 

Dean continued to stare down. Lunch, then a long list of various individual therapies. “Is so much therapy really needed?” Dean asked, finally looking back up.

“Each afternoon therapy session offers a slightly different approach to recovery,” she began to explain. “The cognitive behavioural therapy is used to find new ways to respond to triggers, group therapy allows for a sense of group, and the specialized sessions are tailored for things such as grief counseling, and stress management. We also offer family therapy sessions, if that’s something you’d be interested in?”

“No, that’s fine.” 

“Dude.” Dean looked up to Sam, only raising an eyebrow.

“You have enough of your own therapy sessions,” Dean replied, looking back to the schedule. Sam had his own problems, and Ellie’s, and John’s, he didn’t need to be worried about Dean’s. He could handle them himself. 

He heard a shuffling of papers from the security as he continued to study the list. Dinner, then another group session for something called a twelve step plan, followed by free time, and finally lights out. It really did remind Dean of school, everything incredibly structured, to the point that he almost walked out there and then. 

He glanced across the list one last time before looking back to the women that sat behind the desk. She wore cat-like glasses, with a high ponytail, and green button up shirt. It gave her a look that reminded Dean of a cartoon character. 

“What’s alternative therapy.”

“Those are our non traditional therapy programs such as acupuncture.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “So to stop me from stabbin’ myself with needles, you stab me with a shit ton of needles?”

The woman looked at Dean with wide eyes, which only emphasized her cartoon-like features, parting her lips open to speak, though not seeming to get the words out. “It’s been proven to be incredibly effective,” she finally mustered. “We also offer exercise programs, art therapy, music therapy, and biofeedback.”

“Music therapy?” Sam said, in a raised voice, one that Dean had recognized all too well from Sam talking to Ellie. When he wanted her to be interested in something, but think it was her own choice. 

“Sounds like bullshit,” Dean grumbled. He took a step forward and for the first time since they arrived stood slightly in front of Sam. “Anything else I need?”

The security pushed a paper to him, followed by a pen. “If you could just sign these, then you’ll be done check in and a nurse will give the tour”

After quickly scribbling his signature in the few places he was supposed to, and grabbing his bag which had been seasrched, he took a step away from Sam, and towards the doors led to the rest of the facility.

His gaze had yet to leave Sam’s, his brother looking back with an expression he couldn’t quite understand, he hated that. Not knowing when Sam was hurting, what Sam was thinking, he hoped Sam would be okay, he didn’t want to leave his brother alone. 

“Two weeks,” Dean said. Despite staring at his brother he wasn’t sure if he was reassuring Sam or himself. 

Sam gave a forced nod, a tight smile across his lips. “Two weeks,” Sam agreed.

Dean gave his brother one last look before he turned away, stepping through the sliding doors. 

Maybe he should have said more, there was so much more Dean could have said, but talking, especially to Sam, had never been his strong suit. He couldn’t bring himself to express his fear, to be alone going through withdrawal, to be along with his nightmares, to be alone facing everything he’d spent so long running from. 

The tour was exactly what Dean had expected, each room bare much like the entrance, though a few christmas decorations had been hung up, giving it an empty feeling. A pointless attempt to bring some kind of spirit.

He’d been shown his bedroom, a large open room with two beds, and an attached bathroom, thankfully he was yet to have a roommate. The main room, with seating and a grand piano, the courtyard, the private rooms for therapy sessions, and finally the rooms for groups sessions.

By the end of the tour Dean had become very aware of how long, almost two days, since he’d last used. The effects of the withdrawal already strong. The boiling of his skin, the racing of his heart, the depression, the thoughts, and most of all the cravings. The cravings being all he could think of, the desperation, the willingness to do anything for just one more dose.

The cravings continued to be all he could think of as he sat in the afternoon group therapy session, where the nurse had left him after his tour. Sat in a circle of twenty or so other people, each taking turns to talk of their troubles. 

“Dean,” when his name was called he turned his head, gaze going from the small christmas tree in the corner and to the therapist who led the group. He was an older man, with a name that Dean hadn't cared to remember. Dressed as boring as possible, with features that were as generic as his clothing.

“Yah.”

“Would you like to share with the group?”

“Share what?”

The man raised a hand, adjusting the thick glasses he wore. “Anything you would like,” The man began, “How you’re feeling, why you chose to come, worries, concerns, anything you feel comfortable with.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Are you sure?” The therapist continued speaking in a soft tone, “sharing can be incredibly helpful?”

“Fine,” Dean snapped, the therapist's relaxed expression didn’t drop, which only made Dean’s blood boil hotter, fists clenching at his sides. “I haven’t been high in two days, I overdosed, and first the first time in eight fuckin’ years,” Dean cired, emphasizing his last few words. “I have a family to spend Christmas with, but instead i’m spending it at a glorified crack house.”

Dean’s voice wavered and for a second he had to pause, making sure the tears that had begun to form wouldn’t fall. “How do you think i’m fuckin’ doin?”

“Dean-” The therapist replied in that fuckin steady voice, though Dean didn’t give him the chance to continue, instead standing.

His chair crashed, and without a second glance, Dean stomped away making sure each footstep was as heavy as possible. 

“Dean!”

“Fuck off,” He screamend over his shoulder.

He pulled open the room’s door, and continued to stomp down the hallway until he came to the bathrooms, where he stepped in, taking his seat on the floor, back pressed to the wall. He didn’t care if it was dirty or not. He was too exhausted and pissed off to care, at the therapist, at the world, but mostly at himself. 

Dean tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling, studying the tile pattern. Letting his breathing return to normal, though his heart still raced, blood still boiling, causing his skin to be clammy. He kept his head tilted back until the sound of the door being pushed open filled the silent room. 

“I told you to fuck off,” Dean snapped. He turned his, glaring at whoever had just stepped in. 

For a moment his expression dropped, as his gaze was met with a young redheaded women, who dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, definitely wasn’t a nurse. Despite this Dean was quick to glare at her once again.

The woman looked back with a shocked expression, her eyes wide and mouth dropped, “you’re-” She began, pausing for a long moment to continue staring at Dean. Could she not speak fast enough, her staring was starting to get on Dean’s nerve, not that that was something hard to do. “You’re Dean Winchester.”

“And you’re in the wrong bathroom.”

“Uh-” The women began in a higher pitched voice then before, glancing around the room. “I think you are.”

Dean brought his hands to his hair tugging slightly at the strands, “fuck,” he mumbed. Still Dean didn’t stand, even though he knew he should. He couldn't find the energy to, his thoughts too foggy, skin sweaty and boiling, everything in his body begging for him to just sleep, or find some cocaine. 

He kept his hands in his hair, though his gaze went to the women, watching her walk around him, and then slowly take a seat on the floor, only a foot or so away Her expression was no longer dropped in shock, and instead she had a wide grin, one that lit up her whole face. 

“Charlie Bradbury,” she greeted. She stuck a hand out for Dean to shake though he only looked at with a raised eyebrow. She glanced down to her hand, before looking back to Dean. “Are you going to be an asshole, or should I tell the nurses that you’re in the girls washroom?” 

For a moment Dean stared back before he took her hand, glaring as he shook it, “It’s great to meet you,” Dean replied, making sure his voice was thick with sarcasm.

Charlie’s grin widened, if that was even possible, “You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the greatest chapter, but oh well, it's kinda just a filler, I promise the next chapter is much better, I'm actually really excited about the next chapter!  
> I also promise that Was will be back in the next two chapters?? I think, and then after the next five chapters(?) he's in it a bunch!  
> Anyways! have a fantastic Monday everyone!  
> lots of love, paige


	35. Chapter thirty four

Dean stared at the mirror, hands gripping the sink rim, his green eyes staring back, showing the exhaustion he felt. Bloodshot, purple bags underneath from his sleepless nights. Even on the rare occasion that he was able to fall asleep, it never lasted long, always plunged with nightmares. Him driving, him snorting, him injecting, him dying. 

He wished he was dying, it would be easier than living through the withdrawal. 

His skin had become paler than before, making the freckles that scattered his cheeks clear, and his stumble had grown out. Longer then he would have liked from over a week without shaving, as they didn’t allow razors in the facility. 

Safety reasons, that’s what they had said when Dean asked for one. 

People can hurt themselves with them. 

Maybe that’s why he wanted one, was how Dean had replied

“Dean.”

He could hear his name being called from the main part of his bedroom, though for a moment he didn’t move. Hands stilled gripped around the sink rim, eyes on the mirror. He looked like a corpse, with his ashen, sweaty skin, eyes hollow and expressionless. He missed the way they would dilate. No, miss was too simple, too delicate. He craved it, he needed it. 

The drug.

The high.

The feeling that everything was okay. 

“Dean.”

This time he stepped away, walking across the small bathroom, and to the door, pulling it open to meet Charlie’s grinning face.

“Hey bitch,” She greeted. Dean didn't reply, instead stepping around her, and to the foot of his bed where his duffle bag had been thrown. He pulled off his shirt, one he’d been wearing for the past few days, the material now sticky with sweat. “I thought I’d walk with you to our group session.”

Dean grabbed a black t-shirt from his bag, pulling it over his head. “I’m not going.”

“Dude,” Charlie cried. Despite their rocky start, they’d quickly become friends. Charlie was fun, loud, and not afraid to be mouthy when Dean was being douche. In a way she reminded him of a slightly more energetic Sam. “I think Dorthy’s starting to like me. You're supposed to be my wingman, talk me up.”

“Talk you up?” Dean turned and walked to the door, Charlie following him into the hallway. “What should I say? you're smart, kind, and spend all day playing pretend?”

“It’s called larping, and you’d like it!”

Dean only shook his head, a small smile across his lips. He didn’t know if he would have stayed if it wasn’t for Charlie, other than a handful of nurses, and one therapist, she was the only person he talked to. 

“So what,” Charlie began as they started walking down the hall. Her usual energetic, light tone had dropped and instead she spoke with slight concern. “You just aren’t going to go to the meeting? You’ve been to what three?”

“Four.”

Dean glanced to the other just in time to watch Charlie dramatically roll her eyes. “If you don’t participate in anything, why do you even stay here?” 

Sam. 

He would stay the two weeks for Sam. He’d stay clean for Sam. He’d do it for as long as Sam needed him. 

Dean didn’t reply, instead looking to his left forearm. Most of the scratches from the night of his overdose had healed, though a particularly deep one stayed, leaving a faded scar that traveled from his wrist to just before the nook of his elbow. He ran his thumb across the scar, eyes resting there for another moment.

The rest of the walk was done in silence, only speaking when they parted ways, Charlie going to the group therapy session, while Dean made his way to the main room.

Once there he took a seat at the grand piano, the key cover already lifted. Dean raised his hands, bringing them to the keys, letting his fingers just brush across the smooth material. 

He didn’t press down, instead looking to the Christmas tree that stood a few feet away. The white Christmas lights still glowing, despite Christmas being just the day before. Dean had hoped the decorations would be taken down immediately, though it seemend everyone else enjoyed them, leaving Dean to stare at the tree in misery; much like he had all of Christmas.

Of course Sam and the kids had stopped by, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t get to watch them open presents, or drink hot chocolate as they watched cartoons. He didn’t get to be with them. Even the weather had seemed to be in a poor mood, chilled and grey, snow still yet to fall.

Dean’s gaze dropped to the piano, pressing his finger down on the first key.

He then pressed the second key, playing the only song he knew on piano, are you ready for love, by Elton John. He hadn’t learned it by choice, it was for an AIDS charity event, though Dean did enjoy the song, playing it slower than it was originally done.

“Catch a star, if you can.” Dean sang softly to himself, barely above a whisper, even if he was the only one in the room. “Wish for something special.”

He continued to sing through the first verse, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath. His skin clammy with sweat, fingers sticking the slightest bit against the keys. It would go away if he was high, or at least be unnoticable, the depression, the nightmares, the exhaustion. He’d be okay if he was high. 

“I’ll write a symphony, just for you and me.”

“If you let me love you.”

“I’ll paint a masterpiece, just for you to see if.”

“If you let me love you.”

“Let me love you.”

Dean’s voice hung in the air for a moment, before he continued playing the piano, no longer singing to the chorus. Instead he pressed his lips in a tight line, locking his jaw, in an attempt to calm the watering of his eyes, nose beginning to burn.

His fingers continued to press against the keys, playing the song he had memorized. Gaze staying on his hands, until he heard footsteps approach. 

“Dean,” He looked up to the nurse who’d spoken, a short haired, thin man, that often tried to drag Dean to dinner. To say their relationship was poor, would be an understatement. “there’s someone here to see you.”

“Tell my brother he can fuck off.”

“It’s not your brother.” Dean frowned, turning to the entrance of the room, his heart skipping as his gaze fell on Castiel, Jack at his side. “Should I tell them to fuck off?”

Dean looked to the nurse, who looked back with a raised eyebrow, “No.”

The nurse gave a nod before stepping away, he then walked back to Cas, stopping to talk. Dean continued to watch them, until his gaze met Jack’s, a wide smile immediately spreading across the child’s face 

“Bean,” Jack cried, letting go of Cas’s hand and running to him. The child immediately wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist squeezing as hard as he could, before looking up with a wide smile. “We haved-” Jack began slowly, looking from Dean to Cas who had just stopped a foot or so away. 

Jack ran back to Cas, grabbing the small box in his hand, before bringing it to Dean.

Dean glanced from the box, to Jack, who looked up with wide eyes. “This is for me?”

“Yah,” Jack cried, with his wide grin. 

Dean took the box from the child’s hand, slowly lifting the lid to reveal the walkman inside.

He looked back up to Cas, the uncertainty across the other’s features clear. “You said you had left yours in LA,” Cas began to explain. “I’m sorry if you don’t like it, I can return it.”

“Cas-” Dean began, a smile spreading across his face, as he looked back to the present. “This is awesome, thank you.”

“You like it?” Jack asked.

“Shit kid,” Dean couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at his lips, or the way his heart raced, for once not from cocaine. “I love it.”

Jack giggled. He gave Dean smiths wide grin before turning, skipping to the Christmas tree without another word. 

There was a moment of silence, as Dean continued to stare at the walkman, a warmth seeming to flare through his body that he couldn't quite describe. His gaze not leaving the machine, as if the moment he did, it would disappear, too good to be true. Too innocent. Too selfless. Too kind for Dean to deserve.

He finally looked back up to Cas, a smile still spread across his face. “You should sit,” Dean said, nodding towards the other end of the piano bench. Cas only nodding, taking a seat where Dean had suggested.

“You didn’t need to get me anything.” Dean said, placing the box and walkman next to him, before looking to the other.

“I wanted to,” Cas replied, his blue eyes darting across Dean’s features. His lips parted though it took him a moment to actually speak, “how have you been?”

Dean didn’t reply at first, instead glancing to Jack, watching as the child touched one of the tree's ornaments. He wasn’t sure how to reply. He wasn’t fine, all he could ever think about was being high, how the drug felt, how the pinch came when the needle broke his skin, the way his pupils would dilate. He wasn’t okay. He didn’t even think he was alive. He was existing, though he could never admit that.

He glanced over to Cas, the other watching his son, lips pressed in a tight line. The exhaustion was clear across his features, the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulder slummend, the ashen colour to his skin. He was exhausted and Dean wasn’t willing to be the reason for it. 

“Good,” Dean finally replied, trying to put as much energy into his words as he could, “awesome actually- yah things have been going really well.”

Castiel looked up, his gaze meeting Dean’s. His blue eyes looking back with such intensity that Dean couldn’t drop his gaze, staring back, air barely filling his lungs. He remembered Cas’s eyes when he was high, how electric they looked, god he wished he was high.

“Why are you lying to me?” Cas asked in his monotone voice.

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes you are.”

Dean looked to Cas’s wrist, he’d gotten a glimpse of the bruises when the other first arrived. They weren’t as visible as at the hospital, though even over a week later, they were still faded yellow. “What happened to your wrist.”

Cas glanced across Dean’s face, though Dean’s own gaze dropped to the other’s lips. “It was an accident.

“Why’re you lying to me?”

Dean watched as Cas’s gaze dropped quickly to Jack. “Not now, Dean.” Cas looked back to him, and this time Dean dropped it, instead taking a shifting away, suddenly aware just how close they were. Shoulders touching, fingers almost brushing with each movement, warmth from the other, only raising Dean’s temperature. 

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Dean whispered. He took a hesitant breath, realizing how soft the words were. How domestic. “Man,” Dean added. 

“I can take care of myself,” Cas said. He frowned, tilting his head to the right, “Man?”

“I know.” Dean whispered 

Dean let out a low breath, his heart beat hammering so hard he was sure Cas could hear it. Each beat seeming faster then the last as he stared at Cas. His blue eyes, his locked jaw, the way his hair fell in messy strands. 

Another low breath, another beat of his heart. 

He couldn’t look away. 

Maybe if he was high he’d shift in. 

Maybe if he was high he’d lean closer.

Maybe if he was high he’d kiss the other

They sat in silence for a minute, and then another. Letting the time tick by in silence, though it was far from awkward, instead comforting. Enjoying each other’s presence unitl Jack decided he was hungry. 

“Bye Bean,” Jack said, wrapping his arms around Dean's legs, the moment Dean stood from the bench . 

Dean smiled as Jack let go. “See ya, kid,” he hummened, eyes still on the child, a smile across his face. 

“Dean,” He looked up to Cas, eyes meeting the other’s. “Take care of yourself.”

And for a moment Dean felt the world crumble, his breath faltering, heart stopping. 

The words were on the tip of his tongue. A plea for help, tears, anything to show the pain that had taken over his life. 

Though the thoughts only lasted a moment, before Dean realized the words wouldn’t come. Instead he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Cas. 

Holding onto the other as if Castiel was the only thing keeping him alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yah! Hi everyone!  
> I’m going to start by saying this isn’t the chapter I was excited to post but I decided the chapter needed a bit more build up so I’m posting this chapter first!  
> Second off this is going to be the last chapter for a week. It’s been a hard week, I’ve been pretty sad, and I really don’t know why, and this story ain’t helping it. (If you have Yet to notice it isn’t the happiest). It’s also kinda making me anxious cause I’m feeling like the chapters aren’t good any more and yah so I’m taking a break. I’m also spending the weekend spreading my aunt and uncles ashes which isn’t   
> Helping anything.   
> ANYWAYS!  
> To wrap it all up I’m sad, I don’t know why, so I’m taking a short break!   
> If your interested in still reading some of my stuff I’ll probably be posting a few cute short one shots!   
> Have a great day everyone, sorry the chapter sucks I hope you enjoy it anyways.  
> Lots of love, paige


	36. Chapter thirty five

Trigger warning: mention of suicide 

“How do you do it?” Dean whispered, eyes not going to Charlie, and instead staying on the large floor length windows, that covered the seating rooms one wall. The sky had become black long after Castiel had left, blanketing the courtyard in darkness, leaving only outlines of trees visible. 

“Do what?”

“Talk.” He finally looked to Charlie, who was sat on the other end of the couch facing him.  
He could still hear Castiel’s words ringing through his head, how have been, why are you lying to me, take care of yourself. Why couldn’t Dean admit to how fucked up he was. More importantly why was he so fucked up, why did everything hang on him so heavily. Why wasn’t he high.

Charlie brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, “It was hard at first,” she whispered. “I felt like everyone was judging me, like- I don’t know, it was just hard.”

Dean didn’t move as Charlie spoke, lips pressed in a tight line, eyes never leaving hers, as if the moment he looked away she’d be gone. 

“After a while it got easier, and easier, and,” Charlie let out a sigh, gaze dropping to her knees. Her voice had become low, and for a moment Dean almost reached out, wanting to comfort her. “I wanted to do it. I needed to. It was nice to have someone tell me everything was okay, that I’d be okay.”

Charlie took another deep, “It was nice not to be strong.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment Dean could do nothing but stare back. Breath barely parting his lips, cravings bursting across his tongue, heart ringing through his ears, mixing with Charlie’s words.

“Dean?” Charlie asked, when the silence had drawn on, “Is there something you want to talk about?”

For a moment Dean’s lips parted and he thought the words would fall, help me, save me, I can’t do this anymore, though nothing came. Even if they’d known each other for a little over a week, he cared too much about her, he couldn’t bring himself to pile his problems onto especially since she had her own alcoholism she was battling. 

He pressed his lips back into a tight line, before shaking his head.

“Dean-”

“It’s getting late,” Dean interrupted, “We should get to bed.”

He stood from the couch, stretching slightly, as Charlie followed suit. “Dean,” she repeated, getting his attention, she looked at him with worried eyes, her usual smile, dropped. “You know you can talk to me.”

“Yah, I also know your cranky in the morning.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, but the comment was enough to get a small smile across her lips. “Night, bitch.” She hummened.

“See yah in the mornin’.”

Dean watched her disappear down the hallway before turning down the opposite one that led to his own room, getting half way before stopping. He turned around and went back the way he’d come, then down another hallway, stopping outside a slightly opened door.

His gaze went to the wooden door, staying there for a moment, a breath filling his lungs, then parting his lips.

He could feel the twist of his stomach.

The anxiety of opening the door. 

The withdrawal from cocaine.

The sweating of his skin.

Everything crumbling as he watched, giving him no other choice but to open the door. 

Slowly he brought his hand to the handle, and pulled it open. “Billie,” Dean began, his voice low, sounding weak even to himself. As he stepped in the room, his gaze met the women who sat behind her desk, looking up from her computer and to Dean. “Could we-” the last word wouldn’t come and instead Dean raised his arm, scratching the back of his neck.

Billie’s gaze dropped, her eyes burning against Dean as she looked him up and down. For a moment he was sure she’d say no, he’d been stupid to ask, he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. He just wanted to talk. 

“Of course,” She closed her laptop, and gestured to the seats on the other side of her desk. “Take a seat.”

Slowly Dean did as she said, closing the door behind him, and then taking a seat at the chair. His gaze at first on the floor and then her. In the nine days Dean had been at the facility he’d seen seven different therapists, and Billie was the only one he’d talk to, of course it had never been about his addiction, instead his mom, or Sam, or the kids, but that was better then the others who he simply ignored. 

There was something about Billie he liked, the way she held herself, the way she spoke to Dean, unlike the others who treated him like a child. She was kind, yet factual, and didn’t put up with Dean’s bullshit.

“What would you like to talk about?” 

Dean’s gaze went from Billie to the large photo that hung behind her. One of a bridge, probably the golden gate, done in black and white. It wasn’t much though it was the only thing that brought some kind of calm to Dean’s racing heart, kept his mind focused enough that he could think of something other than cocaine. 

The confidence it brought, the joy, the euphoria. 

When Dean didn’t speak Billie cleared her throat, “Would you mind if I asked you some questions?”

Once again Dean didn’t reply, only managing to give a shake of his head.

“When was the first time you used cocaine?”

Dean slowly took a breath, letting it fill his lungs before he exhaled. For a moment he didn’t think he could reply, ignore her like he did every other time she’d ask him about his use, but he couldn't get Charlie’s words out of his head, it felt good not to be strong. Dean was exhausted with being strong. “I was twenty,” Dean mustered, “maybe twenty one.”

“And why did you?”

“I- '' Dean looked to his hands, then back to Bille. He could remember the night. It was the start of his career, he’d opened for a bigger bad, and then joined them for an after party. The lights had been flashing, music blaring, they’d been in a booth when they offered him some. The feeling had been incredible, everything that night had fallen into place, he was carefree, and fun. No worries of anything. “It’s a part of the music business,” Dean said, “everyone does it.”

The woman nodded, looking down to her note book where she quickly scribbled something. “How often did you use?”

“I don’t know- every second week, only for big parties.”

“And when did you start using more frequently?”

All he could feel was the racing of his heart. Hammering against his chest, and ringing through his ears. He’d been so ready to talk, to tell every single one of his secrets, but now, staring back at Billie, the words seemed stuck. 

When it began clear Dean wasn’t going to answer Billie cleared her throat, giving Dean a look that he couldn’t decide was of sympathy or pity. “you don’t have to answer,” She began, “how about you tell me a bit about why you became a musician, did you always want to?”

“No it was a hale Mary.” The women raised an eyebrow, which Dean assumed ment please explain. “My brother wanted to go to Stanford, and there was no way in hell we could afford it. We didn’t have any money saved, our dad wasn’t going t’be any help. It was either that or I started selling myself.” 

Dean gave a weak laugh, though Billie only gave him a concerned look. 

“Did you go to college yourself?”

“Look lady,” Dean shifted in the seat. “If you think I could make it into college, you’re dumber than me.”

“Why do say stuff like that?” Dean squinted slightly, watching the other in curiosity as she flipped through her papers. “In the week i’ve known you, you’ve said that you probably deserve it all, should have been killed by your overdose, have called yourself dumb, worthless, useless, and a fag.” She placed the papers back down, folding her hands onto her desk, before looking back up to Dean, “Dean, this is just the start of things i’ve heard you say, I could keep going. Why do you talk about yourself this way?”

A moment of silence passed as Dean sat with an open mouth, unsure how to reply. 

“Cause it’s true,” he finally whispered.

“Can I tell you what I see when I look at you?”

“I don’t think i’ve got much of a choice.”

Billie cleared her throat, pressing her lips into a tight line, before speaking. “I see a hard working, independent man, who treats himself like a soldier. Who views everyone else's problems has his own, and has pushed a side his own.” She paused for a second, her words hanging heavy in the silence. “I see someone who won’t let himself recover, and who doesn’t believe he deserves it.”

“Dean, you are an extraordinary person, but unless you put the effort in, and allow yourself to be weak, you will not get better.”

“And you deserve to get better.”

A shaken breath parted his lips, followed by another, enough air never seeming to come as a lump settled in his throat. Dean raised a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes to stop the forming tears from falling. 

“Can I ask you a few more questions?” Dean locked his jaw giving a small nod of his head, “As always, you don’t have to answer.”

“When did you begin using more frequently?”

Dean parted his lips, letting the silence sit for a moment. “When my dad died,” a hand was brought back to his face, quickly wiping away the tear that’d made it halfway down his cheek. “It made things better, stopped the guilt.” 

“It’s extremely common to feel guilty after a parents dea-“

“It was my fault.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“It was my fault,” Dean insisted, voice shaking as he spoke. 

“Dean-”

“I was the driver.”

Dean let his word hang for a second, hearing them heavy in the silence, weighing down on his shoulders. 

He took another breath, “I wasn’t high,” he whispered. The words sounded weak, maybe defensive, maybe like an excuse. “But i’d used the night before so it was in my system.” Another forced breath, what was his problem, why couldn’t he just fucking breath, why was he so fucking weak. “It became a court case for manslaughter, and in the end they decided I wasn’t guilty. The press still brings it up when I get boring, they know they’ll get a reaction.”

Billie opened her mouth to speak, though before she could Dean continued.

“The last thing I’d told him was that I hated him.”

“I don’t usually argue with him. He wasn’t always the greatest but after my mom died he was just doin’ his best.” Dean let out a breath. He was exhausted, from talking, from the pain, from everything building up over the years. He was just so exhausted. “But this time, he was mad at Sammy for becoming a lawyer, and I was just sick of hearing it. Sam had worked so hard to get there.”

Dean let his eyes go from Billie back to the painting, eyes darting across the bridge. He could imagine being at the edge, able to hear nothing but the whizzing of cars, the wind blaring, threatening to push him off. Would he be willing to jump.

“An hour later he was dead and I was rushed to emergency.”

The silence hung, and for a moment Dean didn’t think he would be able to speak again.

He licked his lips, inhaling a breath, “after that things kept spiralling. Sammy was transferring to New York for schooling, my career was taking off.” Dean took another breath, “his girl, Jess, was pregnant. I didn’t think it was a good idea, and I told him that. He was nineteen- he was just a kid.”

“You said you two were close growing up? Did that change?”

Dean nodded, “he moved to New York, had his kid, I stayed in LA. We kept in touch for a bit but sometime after his second kid was born we just stopped.”

“Do you think if you had a better support system you wouldn’t have to rely on drugs so much?”

“I think,” Dean began, the exhaustion clear in his voice even to himself. “I wouldn’t have to rely on drugs if I was dead.” 

Billie looked at him with a raised eyebrow before she looked back to her paper scribbling something out. “How often do you have these thoughts?” 

“Without drugs? Enough.” 

“and have you ever attempted?” 

“It was a bitch ass one.”

There was a pause as Billie stopped her writing, looking up at Dean with an expression he couldn’t quite place. “All attempts are serious, even if they’re-“ She took a deep breath, “bitch ass ones.”

“I drank dish soap.” Dean replied, his gaze going down to the edge of her desk, staying there. It was much easier than looking at the women.

“It was last year, just before the final show of my tour, Dean whispered. He could remember the night, just before his final show in LA. They’d held a celebration at Dean’s place for the success of the tour. Benny had been there, Lee, Crowley, Dick, anyone who had anything to do with it. 

“I was done.” 

With everything.

He could still remember the numb feeling, as everyone celebrated around him. Singing and talking, while he sat emotionless, unable to find a reason to even be alive. 

Everyone had been so happy.

So carefree.

“If I wasn’t a coward I would have used the bleach .” Dean finally looked back to Billie. He could feel his heart hammering, the night still running through his head. The soup burning against his throat, then burning worse when he threw it back up. Lee finding him curled up on the floor, sweaty, and covered in vomit.

“But I cant even kill myself right.”

Billie grabbed a folder from the side of her desk, flipping through the papers. “Why isn’t it in your medical file?” She asked when she’d reached the end.

“I didn’t go to the hospital, I had a show.”

A moment of silence passed as Billie stared at Dean, and he stared back. He could feel the discomfort of his chest, everything telling him to get up and leave. 

He’d laid out more of his life to a complete stranger. More than even Sam knew.

“Dean,” she began, folding her hands back into her desk. “When people grow up in emotionally repressive families they can struggle to express the pain they’re in, and may find it easier to show it.” 

“Do you think this could be a possibility for you.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “So you’re saying I was just lookn’ for attention?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Dean didn’t loosen his jaw, keeping his defensive posture. “I’m suggesting that you were looking for help.” 

A shuffling of papers filled the silence, as Billie picked a clean one up from her pile, handing it over to Dean followed by a pen. “I want you to make a list of people you can talk to when things get bad.”

Dean took the pen, pressing the tip to paper though he didn’t write eyes resting on the rapidly growing dot of blue ink that began to form. 

The first name that had passed his mind was Sam, though he couldn't do that to his brother, Sam had his own problems. then Lee, though he didn’t think another drug addict could count. Then Cas, but much the same as Sam, he had his own problems. Dean couldn’t pile his up onto Cas. 

Crowley, Benny, Billie, Charlie. 

Despite the ever growing list of possibilities the paper stayed blank. His eyes stayed on the tip of the pen, until Billie cleared her throat. 

“Do you need help starting?” 

“No,” Dean snapped. He dropped the pen, pushing it and the paper back to the women. “It’s just a bullshit project.” 

Billie sighed, looking first down to the paper and then back to Dean with a tired expression. “Dean,” she began slowly, speaking in a tone that reminded him of a way you’d talk to an injured animal. “When things get hard you're going to find yourself wanting to go back into old habits, I want to help you find new ways to face your problems, talking can be incredibly helpful.” 

At first Dean didn’t reply, instead clenching his jaw. He knew talking wouldn’t work, he’d never been good at it, and he was sure that hadn't changed. He never could bring himself to tear Sam down with his problems, so why would now be any different. 

“They’re my fuckin problems” Dean spat, “not anyone elses.”

“You’re allowed to talk,” Billie said. “You’re allowed to tell me, and your brother, and your friends when you're hurting, you don’t have to show it.” Billie paused for a moment, the silence weighing down, heavy and thick, suffocating Dean with each passing second. 

“You’re allowed to be in pain, you don’t have to prove it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning everyone!   
> Yah another update after a short but very needed break!   
> I was super excited about this chapter and I hope it turned out how i wanted it to?!? I’m pretty happy with it!   
> Anyways! I hope you’re all doing well, I’m doing much better! I hope you also have a fantastic week!   
> Lots of love, paige


	37. Chapter 37

“Now sign here.” Dean brought the pencil to the bottom of the page, quickly scribbling out his signature across the small line. “And your free to go.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. Dean grabbed his duffle bag from the floor, even filled only with clothing the bag was heavy in Dean’s hand. He barely had the energy to carry his own weight from the sleepless nights, never mind any extra.

Dean glanced to the secretary one last time before turning away, walking back through the doorway he'd come through just two weeks prior and into the facilities parking lot. 

“Dean!” His name was called the moment he stepped out, a smile spreading across his face as he watched Elle run to him. Dean crouched down as she came, the young girl throwing herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck.

“Hey El,” Dean hummened. He didn't move, instead keeping his wraps around Ellie. He didn’t think he could, the exhaustion weighing him down, mixed with the cravings that was often all he could think of. The needle, the drug, the euphoria. The minty taste of the cocaine was almost bursting across his tongue. Sometimes so intense Dean wasn’t sure if it was just the withdrawal, or if he’d actually taken something. 

“How are you feelin?” Dean finally looked up from Ellie and to his brother, the other standing a foot or so away with John at his side..

“Good.” That was a lie. “Yah I’m awesome.” Another lie though Dean couldn't bring himself to admit the cravings he still felt, the dread, the guilt. Nothing had been fixed, in fact all that had happened was he'd waisted two weeks of his life to withdrawal and nightmares, not that he’d ever admit to Sam how much of failure he was to Sam.

“That’s good.”

Dean pulled away from Ellie and stood, taking a step towards John. A hesitant breath filled his lungs before he pulled the other child into a tight hug, holding onto him for a moment before pulling away. 

“Shit I missed you two gremlins, you know who else I missed,” Dean turned to his brother who raised an eyebrow in question. “Where is she?”

A grin spread across Dean’s lips as he watched Sam's expression drop. “You’re an idiot,” Sam said, though he still pulled a set of keys from his pocket and handed them to Dean.

“You better have taken good care of her.” Dean said as he began walking through the parking lot, Sam and the kids following behind. “she isn’t used to being left alone.”

“She,” Dean could hear the sarcasm in Sam’s voice as he reached the impala. He raised a hand, running it along the roof, the black metal cold to the touch. “Is a car.”

“Hey, you have your babies, I've got mine.” Dean turned back to the car, running his hand down the door, and to the handle. “Isn’t that right sweetheart.”

He could practically hear Sam roll his eyes though the other didn’t say anything more and instead went to the passengers side to help the kids get to the back seats.

Dean took a seat in the driver's side. He brought his hands to the steering wheel, the leather against his hands familiar, as the bitter taste of coffee began to spread through his mouth. When was the last time he’d had coffee, Dean wasn't sure.

A shaken breath parted his lips as the feeling of adrenaline began to coursed through his body, mixing with the panic that built in his chest. A low pain burned at his lower ribs, similar to that that burned at his wrist, growing worse with each passing second.

He was going to die, that was the only thing Dean was sure of.

From the pain that continued to sear across his body.

He was going to die.

With his lung barely filling.

He was going to die.

The screeching of tires rang through his head, loud and deafening.

The hammering of his heart beat through his body as he tore his grip from the steering wheel. He could still feel the leather against his hands even as he forced the drivers door open, and stumbled out, and crumbled to the cement ground. 

“Dean.”

A breath filled his lungs. He brought his shaking hands to his hair, tugging at the smalls strands in a weak attempt to stop the adrenaline that controlled him. The adrenaline that sent him spiralling into a helpless feeling. “Dean.”

“Dean.” His name again. He could still taste the coffee. Strong, bitter, almost burning, for once in his life Dean would have preferred the cocaine cravings. 

“Dean breathe.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands flying from his hair to his ribs as searing pain came. “Breathe.”

The word was spoken over and over, though no matter how many times he gasped for a breath his lungs never filled enough to match his racing heart.

“Breathe.”

“Breathe.”

“Breathe.”

Dean wasn’t sure how long it was until his breathing returned to somewhat normal, minutes maybe hours, though an uneasy feeling still rested in his stomach. His whole body aching between fight and fly. “I’m fine,” Dean mumbled, as his eyes fluttered opened, meeting Sam’s who was crouched in front of him. Despite his words Dean didn't stand, continuing to sit on the ground with his knees brought to his chest.

“Dean-” Sam began slowly, staring at him with a wide eyed look, one that if it wasn't for the exhaustion and panic Dean would have rolled his eyes to. “Should I get someone?”

“I said I’m fine,” Dean spat. He pushed himself from the ground, legs shaking slightly as he did so, and shoved the keys into Sam’s hand. “Just drive.”

“Dean-”

“Did you not hear me?” Dean rasied an eyebrow at his brother, “Drive the fucking car.”

Sam didn’t make another argument, and instead did as Dean said. Even through the driveSam stayed silent much to Dean’s relief, instead letting him stare out the passenger window in silence. He still had the distant feeling of pain at his ribs and along his left wrist, while his body stayed tense ready for something that Dean couldn’t name. 

It wasn’t until they’d gotten back to the apartment and Dean had grabbed a beer from the fridge that Sam spoke again, “Isn’t it a little early for drinking?”

Dean glanced to the stove as he twisted the cap off, the numbers four twelve printed across in the box text. “No,” Dean replied, he brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long drink. “If anything I'm staring late:. 

Sam only shook his head and instead took a seat in the living room while Dean sat at the kitchen table.

With one hand still around the bottle, Dean used his other to pull out his phone, opening instagram to find Charlie’s account.

“When are you leaving for LA?” Samc asked from the living room. 

“Five days.” Dean didn’t look up from his phone, instead keeping his head down as he found Charlie’s account and hit follow, shoving his phone back into his pocket afterwards. “Maybe four, I don’t know I’m leavin’ Monday.”

“Are you driving?”

This time Dean looked up, meeting Sam’s gaze who looked back with an unreadable expression. “Course I am.”

Sam hesitated for a moment, “maybe you should fly.”

“I’m not fuckin’ flying,” Dean snapped. “I can drive myself without-” Before he could continue a low knocking came from the front, causing Sam to begin standing. “I got it,” Dean grumbled.

He stood from his seat, taking another long drink from his beer before moving out the door. The burning of the alcohol felt good against his throat, it gave him a distraction, brought some ease to the adrenaline that continued to course through him. Still the taste of coffee overpowered the beer. How many bottles would it take for the coffee to disappear, two, three, would he need something stronger. 

“Cas,” Dean greeted, unable to hide the light tone that came as he opened the door for the other. “Hey, how’ve you been.” 

“Is Jack here?”

The smile that had begun to spread across his face dropped, “No.”

There was a moment of silence as Cas only stared back, his lips pressed in a tight line, blue eyes looking back harshly. His expression was emotionless, unreadable, no matter how hard Dean tried. His gaze only intense, staring at Dean for another second before he turned away without another word.

“Wait,” Dean cried stepping out of the door frame and into the hallway. “Cas,” Dean watched as the other stopped, turning in response. “Is everything good?”

“Yes.”

“Cas.”

Dean could see the other’s expression drop in distress, for just a moment, before he was back to an emotionless expression. “It’s Jack,” Cas began, his eyes never leaving Dean’s, voice monotone, echoing through the silent hallway. Dean could see as the other took a deep breath, chest raising, “I- He’s missing, and so is Logan.”

The world tilted, or maybe Dean’s footing was off, as his breath hitched in his throat. He couldn’t breathe, no matter how many times he opened his mouth, attempting to fill his lungs, though nothing came. What was it with him and being unable to breathe “He’s gone?” Dean finally mustered, voice barely heard over the hammering of his heart.

Cas pressed his lips tightly together, giving a forced nod.

“They’re just fuckin’ gone?” Dean repeated, voice louder than he should have.

Cas looked back, though as the sound of footsteps came, his gaze darted to the doorway, Dean’s following, landing on his brother. “Is everything alright?” Sam asked, as he stopped a few feet away from Dean.

Dean didn’t reply, instead looking back to Cas who’s gaze was already on him. 

“I told Logan about our night together.” Cas said

“Son of a bitch,” Dean grit his teeth. He raised his hands to his head, tugging at the hair, before he brought them back to his sides in fsits, clenching them, then uncelching. He didn’t know where to put them, his body coursing with adrenaline. How to shift, where to stand, nothing seemed right. “Why’d you fuckin’ do that?”

As the words fell Cas took a step back, barely enough to be seen, though enough to stop Dean’s harsh glare that had been on him for no other reason then Dean had no idea who else to glare at. “He seemed to already know, and as I recall you wanted me to.”

“So he took Jack,” Dean whispered, voice so low he wasn’t sure anyone else had heard him.

“When I had told him, he seemed fine with it, so I had a shower,” Cas paused for a moment, blue eyes darting from Dean, to Sam, and then resting on Dean. “When I got out they were both gone.”

Whatever anger boiled Dean’s skin melted as he watched Cas’s face fall. His lips once again in a tight line, blue eyes looking up, wide and with a hazy gloss. There was nothing particular that could describe Castiel’s panicked , no tears, or runny nose, just a pure look of distress. A look that made Deans step the slightest bit closer, wanting to pull his friend into a hug, tell him everything would be okay. Not that Dean would believe his own words. 

“Have you called the cops?” Dean finally asked.

“No.” Dean didn’t respond, isn't pulling his phone from his pocket and unlocking it with his thumb print. “Dean, dont.”

He looked up with a raised eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t I.”

Cas hesitated for a moment, “they’ll arrest him.”

“That’s what happens when you kidnap kids.” Dean spat. His gaze didn't leave Cas, the other looking back with the same intensity until Sam stepped between them.

“We won’t call the cops,” Sam declared. He looked to Dean with a raised eyebrow though Dean only glared back. “Two of us can look for them while one of us stays here if they return, okay?”

Dean didn’t reply, though Cas gave the smallest nod, “I’ll get my coat.”

When Cas disappeared into his own apartment, Sam turned back to Dean, his features rested somewhere between exhausted, and worried. “I think you should stay here.”

“Dude,” Dean cried, “don’t fuckin’ bench me.”

“Dean, you just had a panic attack an hour ago.”

“Don’t tell me what I did or didn’t have,” Dean said, Sam only raising an eyebrow in question. “You stay here and look after your kids, and i’ll look after- Cas’s.”

“Can you atleast stop being an asshole.”

Dean didn’t reply instead glaring to the floor. Though he would never admit it to his brother, he was exhausted, anxious, withdrawn, done. Was it selfish of him to wish this had happened a few weeks before. When Dean could have solved his problem with drugs. Drown his fears, and anger in cocaine. 

“Dean.”

Finally he looked back up to his brother, jaw locked, fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not being an asshole, I'm being realistic. We should be callin’ the pigs.”

“This isn’t about you,” Sam snapped back a low voice. Low enough that Dean hoped Cas wouldn’t be able to hear either of them. “This isn’t about Logan either, it’s about Cas, do you get that?”

“Yah.” Dean brought his hands to his face, running them through his hair slowly. A breath filled his lungs, then another. Everything in his body felt like electricity, not the kind that came from cocaine, something which was pure and understable, this was confusing. A mess of anger, and panic. Fear for Cas for Jack, hammering his heart, electrifying every inch of his skin.

“It’s ‘bout Cas,” Dean whispered in agreeance. “Him, and Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I rewrote the beginning like seven or eight times, and even now I'm not one hundred percent happy with it but you know, oh well  
> How have you guys been? I'm pretty good.  
> yah...  
> I don't have much to say, I hope you all have an amazing day, drink some water, eat some cake, enjoy the sun!  
> lot's of love, paige


	38. Chapter thirty seven

Sam was right, but of course Sam fucking right.

Dean shouldn’t have been driving, and with each wrong turn, ran stop sign, and poor lane change that became increasingly clear. His breathing had once again become forced, body tense with adrenaline, though the panic attack hadn’t come, and instead a feeling of dissociation. As if his body and mind worked at different paces. His body desperately trying to keep him in reality, while his thoughts were numb, stuck between the feeling of fight of flight. 

It wasn’t until he’d stepped out of the car and onto the streets that he felt somewhat normal. The cold winter air, burning against his cheeks, grounding him to the present. 

“Dean.” He turned to Cas who’d just gotten out of the passenger side, the other’s expression sat in worry, which Dean for once was thankful for. It was better than his emotionless stare that had taken over, through most of the car ride. “Are you alright?”

“Yah, I’m good.” Dean replied. 

He looked away from Cas and back to their first stop, Logan’s office building. A large building that blended in with the rest of New York's skyscrapers. “Are you sure?” Cas asked, though Dean only tuned. “You seem pale.”

“It’s winter,” Dean said, and he couldn’t breathe properly. “That’s what happens,” and the whole world seemed to spin, the sidewalk swaying under his feet as he walked towards the building. The panic growing with each person he walked past. There were far too many of them, people, loud, screaming, talking, the noise ringing through Dena’s head, only worsening the panic that seemed engraved in his chest.

He could have sworn one person had tried to stop him, though Dean had ignored them, only stopping his stumbled walk when he'd gotten into the door entrance, which gave him some privacy from the busy streets. Cas soon joining him.

“Dean-”

“Ready to go in?” Dean asked before Cas could continue. He didn’t want the pity talk, he got enough of it from Sam. He didn’t want Cas to worry about him, or his fucking problems Cas had more important problems. 

Cas turned looking to the glass door they stood in front of. His lips pressed in a tight line, eyes looking with their usual intensity. For a moment he didn’t respond, only looking, before he gave the smallest nod of his head.

“Then lead the way.”

Dean followed Castiel through the door, and into the building's lobby, a large room that much to Dean’s relief was fairly empty. With a minimalistic design, and only a few people filling the large room, two at the far right corner waiting for an elevator, and one man stood behind a desk in the centre of the room. 

“Castiel.” The man greeted them as they walked up to the desk he sat behind, a smile across his face. Cas didn’t return it, instead only staring back. “How are you doing?”

“Is Logan here?”

The man’s smile, flat reed for a moment, though other than that he didn’t seem fazed.”No, I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

Dean looked away from the desk and instead across the room, most of the furniture and decorations a light shade of grey, or dark blue. 

He took a deep breath, the air barely filling his lungs as he tried to calm the panic that still built up. One breath, then another. A third breath, slow and forced. Why couldn’t he calm down, why was he so tense. Why couldn’t he fix it.

“Would it be possible for Dean and I to go to his office?”

“I- Make it quick.” Dean could hear the hesitation in the man's voice, “your friend can wait here.”

“Thank you.” From the corner of Dean’s eye could see Cas turn to him, though it took him a moment to look back, gaze on a large fish tank that had been placed against one. “I’ll be back.”

“Take your time.”

When Cas walked away, Dean made his way to the fish tank, crouching in front of it to get a better view of the fish.

Another breath filled his lungs. Eyes darting across the bright fish that filled the tank. Another breath, then another. He could feel his hands shaking at his sides, the smallest jitter that refused to stop, no matter how many times he clenched or unclenched them. 

Slowly he raised one of his hands, the shaking almost unnoticeable to the eye, and lightly tapped it against the glass. 

“Sir?” the secretary called, as Dean tapped on it once again. He didn’t look up, instead continuing to watch the fish swim. “Could you not do that.”

Dean glanced to the man for a moment before looking back to the fish. “Do they have names?” 

“No, they’re fish sir.”

“And you’re an asshole,” Dean mumbled. God he hated businessmen .

Slowly he stood, instead inspecting the large painting that hung above it, one of simple landscape, painted in a faded tone. He stepped away, beginning to move through the lobby, inspecting the little furniture that killed the room. The secretary’s eyes on him at all times. 

By the time Cas had returned, with no luck, Dean had done two laps of the lobby, and was back at the fish taking, and was deciding which one suited Jimmy Page best. 

From the office they drove to a friend of Logan’s, then another, stopping in between at Jack’s favorite restaurant. After a third friend they went to Logan’s sister in Brooklyn, and finally long after the sun had set and the usual traffic had died down, they reached Logan’s mother’s. A nice apartment building off the main road.

“I’ll wait here?” Dean suggested, stopping a few doors away from the women’s. Cas followed suit only looking back in silence, much like he had for most of the drive. Dean and quickly given up on trying to talk to him. No matter how unbearable the silence was. He didn’t want to push the other, Cas would talk to him when he wanted to. “You talk to her.”

Cas gave the smallest nod of his head, looking to Dean one last time before he walked the last little bit to the women’s door and knocked on it.

There was a moment before the door was pulled open, an old woman wrapped in a housecoat appearing on the other side. From where Dean stood he couldn’t see Cas’s expression, only his back, too far to hear the conversation either.

Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the women disappeared through the doorway, a light feeling coming to his stomach. A moment of hope.

A second passed, and then another, before the women returned, no Jack, no Logan, just a tray of cookies in hand that she handed to Cas. She then lent in pulling Cas into a quick hug before closing the door. 

“Has she seen them?” Dean asked as Cas walked back.

Castiel didn’t reply, instead walking past in silence, Dean watching for a second, before he followed behind. Through the hallway, down the stair well, and back onto the darkened street, though instead of going to the car Cas took a seat on the curve, placing the tray next to him. 

Dean followed suit, sitting on the other side of the tray. 

“Do you mind?” Dean asked gesturing to the tray, when Cas shook his head Dean grabbed one taking a large bite. The women may not have been great at raising children, but she could bake, Dean would give her that much.

After finishing the first, Dean took another, and then another, almost taking his forth when Cas finally spoke. “I should have left when you had told me to,” He whispered out his voice exhausted, words hanging through the silence, weighed and toxic. “Or at halloween, or when I had adopted Jack. I thou- I-”

Dean looked over when Cas didn’t continue speaking, though through the darkness it was hard to completely see him. Dean took a slow breath, before he pushed the tray to the side, and scooted closer. Putting an arm around the other’s shoulders when there wasn’t more than an inch of space between them.

Cas lent his head against Dean’s shoulder, a shaken breath filling the silence. “He is a good person,” Cas finally whispered, though from the way he spoke, the words didn’t seem intended for Dean. “He is.”

“Cas.”

The other didn’t reply and for a moment Dean didn’t continue. The silence they sat in heavy, only broken by their breaths and the occasional distant car. Dean himself couldn’t focus on anything but Cas in his arms. He couldn't find the energy to be worried any longer, or even angry, just numb, a dreaded weight against his chest. 

“I had tried to leave a few years ago, before Jack.” Cas said. He didn’t raise his head from Dean’s shoulder, and Dean didn’t look down, instead keeping his gaze forward on the dark street in front of them. “I had made it halfway down the block before I went back. If i hadn’t turned around-”

“Cas, this isn’t your fault.”

“But it is.”

“That’s like blaming Jerry for when Tom gets hurt.”

Cas sat up, head tilted the slightest bit, his confused expression clear even though the darkness. “Dean, I don’t understand your analogy.”

For a moment Dean didn’t reply, only staring at the other, his gaze going from Castiel's eyes, to his lips and then back to his eyes. The cold December had become clear, as Dean felt a gust of wind come. The chilled air burning against his cheeks, and fingers. 

“You haven't seen Tom and Jerry?” the smallest smile tugged at Dean’s lips.

“No.”

“We’ll have to add it to our movie list.”

“I suppose we will.” 

Though a smile never came to the other’s face, there was a relaxation to Cas’s features, the exhaustion he had once held, gone. It lasted only moments, before the worry was back, but that was enough for Dean. Brought him some relaxation to know he could help the other even if it was for only seconds.

“Cas,” Dean began. He let out a breath, the air coming out a cloud of fog, warming his frozen cheeks for a moment. “We’re goin’ t’ find him.”

“What if we don’t.”

Dean hesitated for a moment before he stood. “Let’s head back,” he offered his hand to help Castiel help. “We’ll get some sleep then start looking again in the morning .”

Cas didn’t reply. Instead he took Dean’s hand and slowly stood, still so close that their chests almost touched, the warmth of the other radiating.

“Cas.” His hand was still laced with Cas’s, the other’s thumb over his own. Warm and inviting, and for a moment that was all he could think about. Should he let go, bring his hand back to his side, probably. Would he, probably not. “We’re going to find him.”

“I promise.” Though even Dean wasn’t convinced by his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone!  
> first off this story has over 2000 reads????? so thank you??? like I honestly can't even explain how amazing that is and how happy that makes me and I just really appreciate y'all so much, like honestly can't explain how happy I am so thank you! I really appreciate it!  
> Second off let me tell you about the cake I'm eating today! it's at my favourite coffee shop and I've been wanting to try it for almost a year but I've been way to anxious to try it, but today I'm going to conquer my fear and do it anyways! and I'm so excited about it!  
> anyways yah!  
> I hope you guys have a great day, or have at least one happy moment.  
> lots of love, paige


	39. Chapter thirty eight

“I am going to fuckin’ kill that man.”

“I’m going to grab a knife and stab him until he looks like… a fuckin’ stab victim, and then i’m goin’t burn him alive, and continue to stab him. I’m going to make his death so fuckin’ painful that he’ll he’ll wish he killed himself.” Dean ranted as he paced through the kitchen, Sam lent against the counter silently watching.

They’d just gotten back, and while Cas went to his own apartment, Dean went to Sam’s, to update his brother on everything. At least that's what Dean had told Cas, though explaining the night had quickly become ranting. Sam watching in silence as Dean swore, and threatened Logan.

Dean stopped in place. “What would a court case look like?” He asked, turning to his brother,, who at first only looked back in shock.

“Uh,” Sam brought his hands to his face, pushing his hair behind his ears. “I haven't dealt with a parental abduction case recently, but I think Logan could be facing ten to fourteen years of jail.” Sam hesitated for a second, eyes glancing across Dean in a way that Dean assumed was concern, or maybe dread. “That is if Cas chooses to press charges.”

“Of course he's going to press charges,” Dean cried. “The guy took his fuckin’ kid.”

“He hasn’t called the cops.”

Dean clenched his fists, glaring as harshly as he could at the other. He was going to stab Logan, and then Sam.“When Cas presses” Dean began, voice steady but harsh, his blood boiling. “What’re his chances of winning?”

“So far good.” Sam replied. “If it can be proven that Cas didn’t give Logan consent he’ll win. Anything-” Dean felt his stomach drop as Sam took a hesitant breath, “anything that happens to Jack, only makes his chances better.”

“And what about calling the cops?” Sam raised an eyebrow, “what’ll we need?”

“From what I know, custody papers, passports, a list of anything missing. Try not to touch or move anything.” 

Dean nodded. “I should get back to Cas.” He stepped away from his brother, pulling his leather jacket closer to his body.

“Call me if you find anything.”

“Yah.”  
He didn’t give Sam another glance, instead making his way back into the hallway, and then into Cas’s apartment. When he stepped back into the empty apartment, Dean made his way down the hall, first glancing into Jack’s empty room, and into Cas’s where he found the other laying across the bed, back to the door.

“Hey,” Dean hummed. He walked to the empty side of the bed and laid across it so he faced the other’s back. “How’re you holdin’ up?

Slowly Cas rolled over to face Dean. He didn’t look completely awful, or maybe Cas always looked on the verge of breaking, his skin it’s normal colourless tone, light purple bags under his eyes, and lips pressed in a tight line. Though his eyes now held a red tinged to them.

Cas didn’t reply at first, eyes lingering on Dean. His lips slowly parted though even still it took a moment for him to speak. “I’m fine,” Cas said, his voice monotone, and low, matching his blank expression. 

“Cas-” Dean began. For a moment Dean considered raising his hand, letting it brush across the side of the other’s face, across his stubble, align his jaw line. Would his skin be warm to Dean’s touch. Would it be a comfort in his spiralling emotions. Despite his wants, Dean kept his hands at his side, instead continuing to stare at the other. “You aren’t fine.”

“I am.”

“Cas you don’t have to be fine.”

“Does that do me any good?” Cas snapped. His words were so harsh, Dean didn’t reply, voice stuck in his throat. His gaze stayed on Cas’s the other looking back with his blue eyes. Blue eyes that with each passing moment, became more and more watered. “What am I going to do?”

“Leave,” Dean whispered. The word falling before he could stop himself. 

Cas looked back, his chest raising and falling with each small breath. They were so close, one of Dean’s legs rested next to the other’s, Cas’s chest almost touching Dean’s. Even if he had wanted to put space between them, the bed’s size made it impossible.

The silence continued, staring at one another, staring at one another until the watering of Cas’s began rolling down his face in silent tears. “Cas,” Dean said as the other brought his hands to his face, rubbing at his eyes.

“My apologizes.” 

“No, Cas, don’t fuckin’ apologize.” Slowly Dean raised an arm, using it to pull Cas to his chest, pulling the other into a tight hug. Each arm wrapped around Cas’s slim frame, while Dean’s chin rested on the top of the other’s head as Cas buried his face into Dean’s chest. “It ain’t your fault.”

He could feel the smallest shaking in his arms, and the occasional gasp for breath. “It’s going t’be okay,” Dean whispered, so soft he wasn’t sure the other had heard him. “We’re going to find him, I promise.”

When Dean was sure the other had fallen asleep, he removed his arms from the other, and sat up, each movement slow, and careful. Getting out of the bed, making his way out of the bedroom, into the hall. He needed to keep himself moving, doing something, anything that would prevent him from falling asleep. 

The longer he stayed clean the worse the nightmares had seemed to get, so realistic, even after waking he’d spend hours in bed, unsure what was real, and what his mind had made up.

When he made it to the kitchen he opened the fridge, only to close it seconds later as he found nothing to eat. He moved onto the cupboards, looking through the bottom ones and then the top ones only when he reached the one above the stove. A few bottles of harder alcohol filled it, most unopened though a few were half empty.

“Thank you, Logan.” Dean hummened to himself as he grabbed a half empty bottle of vodka, adn an unopened bottle of dry vermouth. He then found a wine glass and a to go mug, without a shaker it would have to do, and filled a third of the mug with vodka. The rest of the mug was filled with vermouth, and then given a shake, mixing the two alcohols. 

A vodka martini. It would be warm, not as good as any he could get at a club, but it would do its job and get him black out. 

For his first mixture, he took the time to pour the alcohol into the wine and drink from it. By his second mixture he found it quicker to drink directly from the mug, and by the third he couldn’t completely remember. Had he even added the vermouth, did he still drink in the kitchen or had he moved to the living room. Either way it didn’t matter to Dean, he got what he wanted, black out drunk, and for the first time since his overdose, he slept through the night, not once distrubed by nightmares.

Dean slept soundly until the sound of a door closing jolted him awake, a low headache pounding the moment his eyes opened. Dean’s gaze darted across the bedroom he sat in, a frown across his lips until his eyes met Cas’s.

“Jack,” Cas barely whispered before he was getting out of bed. Dean only watched, still processing the fact that he was awake, no longer in the kitchen, and most of all very hungover.

When Cas had just reached the bedroom door, Deansat up, a hand immediately going to his forehead as the pounding only got worse. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled, eyes squeezed shut.

He gave himself another moment before he stood, and made his way into the hall. 

The moment Dean stepped into the hall he felt his heart stop. Logan stood in the kitchen, Cas a few feet away, crouched in front of Jack. He had his hands raised running them through the child's messy hair, then down the side of his face, then to Jack’s arms. 

Dean took a hesitant step forward so he stood at the hallway entrance. Cas didn’t look up, continuing to inspect Jack, while Logan only glanced to Dean.

“We haded ice cream,” Jack explained happily as Cas stopped his inspecting, instead only staring at Jack. With one hand Cas held the child’s while his other rested on the side of Jack's face. 

“Did you?” Cas asked softly , getting a nod from Jack. 

“So many!”

Cas stared at the child for another moment, the room sitting in a stiff silence. Dean almost took another step forward, to join Cas in making sure the child was okay, that not a single bruise or scratch marked his skin. Though no matter how much Dean wanted, he stayed in his spot, giving Cas the space that he deserved. 

“How about you go to your room, and then you can tell me about your icecream in a few minutes, okay bee?”

“Okay!”

Once the child had disappeared into his room, Cas stood, his gaze becoming a harsh glare, as he turned to Logan. 

“Where were you,” Cas spat. Dean’s gaze went from Logan to Cas, then back again. Breath hitched in his throat. 

There’d been one time, years before, that he'd woken, hungover, on Lee’s couch to Lee and his at the time girlfriend fighting. It had been about her being pregnant, one of them had wanted to keep the baby, while the other hadn't. Dean hadn’t been able to tell who was on what side, there was only screaming, a mix of swears and insults, only broken by the occasional thrown object. 

It had been the most awkward point in Dean’s life, though now, as he stood in the midst of Cas and Logan’s fight, he would rather relive it a hundred more times. 

“Long Island.” Logan replied. “I told you the other day I was going.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No you didn't.” Cas repeated.

Logan looked towards Dean, Dean only glaring back. “Could we talk about this in private.”

“No-” 

“Dean,” Cas cut him off, turning to look at Dean. His glare didn’t falter, blue eyes staring back at Dean with a harsh look. 

Dean clenched his fists, gritting his teeth together. “Really?” Dean finally broke his staring match with the other, and looked towards Logan. Fuck Dean hated that man. Fuck he wanted to punch, see how many times it’d take till he could break a tooth. “Are you fuckin’ serious?” 

“Please Dean.”

“Fine,” Dean said, not making any attempt to hide the hostility in his voice. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, turning towards the front door. “I’ll wait in fuckin’ the hall.”

Without another word Dean walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. 

A shaken breath partied his lips, skin still boiling, fists clenched in his jacket pocket.

He took another breath before stepping back to the door, pressing his ear to the wood. He couldn’t hear much, just low muffled talking, a blur of words that Dean couldn’t make out. At least there wasn’t any screaming, no sounds of things being thrown, or the fight increasing past talking. 

Dean kept his ear pressed to the door until the sound of footsteps coming could be heard. He stepped back just in time as Cas open the door, joining Dean in the hall.

For a moment neither of them spoke only staring back at one another, a breath barley parting Dean’s lips.

“I should apologize.” Cas began, voice low and monotone.  
Dean frowned, his gaze finally leaving the other’s eyes and instead darting across Cas’s body. He couldn’t see any harm, no bruises across his visible skin. The only visible distress was the exhaustion that sat across his features. “For what?”

“For causing a panic, it was just a misunderstanding, and I dragged you into it.”

Dean shook his head slightly, “Cas you aren’t making any sense.

Cas shifted slightly, his gaze dropping from Dean’s and to the floor. For a moment Dean almost stepped forward, wanting to pull the other into a hug. “I had caused a panic over nothing.”

“That son of a bitch took your kid.”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding my ass.”

“Dean,” Cas insisted. There was a plea to his voice, one that maybe if Dean hadn't been so frustrated, he maybe would have paid more attention.

Dean took a forced breath. He couldn’t feel the air fill his lungs, just the frustration, the anger, and maybe a bit of pain. A pain he couldn’t quite explain the reason for. “So you aren’t going to break up with him?” The words came out emptier then Dean had wanted. 

“It was a misunderstanding,” Cas repeated. 

“Fine,” Dean turned, “just a fuckin’ misunderstanding.”

Maybe he had wanted Cas to make an argument as he stomped away. Some plea for Dean to stay, though none of that came. Instead the other stayed in silence, while Dean walked down the hall, turning into the stairwell without even thinking. 

It wasn’t until Dean had stepped out of the stairwell and into the second floor’s hallway that he realized where he was going; Balthazar's apartment. Despite his realization he continued to walk forward, getting closer to the other man's apartment with each step. 

Why had he even gotten clean.

What did being clean do for him, other than leave home with panic attacks and nightmares.

Why had he even gotten celan.

What was the point.

Being high didn’t hurt anyone

Why had he even gotten clean. 

Sam.

Dean stopped, clenching his teeth in frustration. His fucking brother. He took another step forward, and then one back, then forward again. His fucking brother. 

“Shit,” Dean mumbled to himself. One more step forward, two steps back. Heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't keep doing this

Slowly Dean crouched to the floor, looking to Balthazar’s door only a few feet away. 

“Fuck, Sam.”

“You son of a bitch.”

He brought his hands to his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He wished he was dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah it's Monday!  
> I don't have much to say, this books now as long as the first Harry Potter book, soooo that's kinda long, oops.   
> And yah! I hope you're still enjoying it! I am! and I hope you're having an amazing day!  
> Lot's of love, paige


	40. Chapter thirty nine

Three days.

Dean waited three days until he went to talk to Cas, before that, avoiding him at all cost. Finally a day before Dean left for LA when he knew Logan would be at work, Dean went next door, knocking on Cas’s apartment.

“Dean?” Cas questioned, as he pulled open the front door,.

“We need to talk,” Dean said. He glanced over the other’s shoulder, into the apartment. “Can I come in?”

Cas didn’t reply and instead walked back into the apartment, Dean following, closing the front door behind him. He stopped in the kitchen, a foot or so away, his eyes darting down the other’s body. Cas wore his usual black dress pants, paired with his dress shoes, and a dark blue button up, the same shade as his eyes. It looked good on him, though hung slightly around his body.

Finally Dean’s gaze went back to the other’s, a hesitant breath parting his lips, then another, before speaking. “You need to leave him.”

“Excuse me?”

“You need to leave him,” Dean repeated.

Cas tilted his head to the right, eyes squinted and nose scrunched. “I'm failing to see how this involves you, or is your decision.”

“You’re my friend.” 

Before Cas could reply, the sound of small footsteps came, causing Dean to turn his head to the hallway, where Jack had just come from, a smile across the child’s face. “Bean,” Jack cried.

A smile spread across Dean’s own face as Jack came running forward, wrapping his arms around Dean’s legs. “Hey kid,” Dean hummend. When Jack let go, Dean crouched to the ground “How’re you doin’?”

Jack didn’t reply, instead raising the toy car in his hand to show Dean. a small yellow sports car, with the hot wheels symbol on it’s side. “Wow, that’s awesome, where’d you get it?” He asked, looking back to Jack. 

“From santa!”

“Really?” Dean asked, getting a nod from the child. “Did he get you a lot?”

“Yah!” Jack forced the toy car into Dean’s hand, before looking back up to him, with wide eyes. His lips puckered out the slightest. “Wait,” Jack said, with such intensity Dean couldn't help his widening grin, as the child turned away, and ran back to his room, retaining moments later, arns filled with various stuffed animals, books and other toys. 

“Shit,” Dean, watched as Jack dropped his pile in front of Dean, before sitting down to sort through it. “You were spoilt.”

Jack didn’t reply, instead picking up a stuffed elephant for Dean to see. “Sis- sis is Tommy.” 

After the elephant Jack showed off the stuffed dog he'd gotten, followed by a stack of picture books, and then a set of cars. He babbled on the whole time, his word becoming a blurred mess that Dean didn't quite understand but pretended to anyways. Making small comments on toys Jack seemed to especially like.

“Can we-” Jack began after he’d shown Dean everything in his pile. The child looked down as he spoke, picking at the mane of a stuffed lion. “We can play.”

“How about we play in a few minutes.” Dean glanced up to Cas who hovered beside Jack, then back to the child, meeting Jack’s wide eyes. “Me and your dad need to talk first.”

“Okay!” 

Dean gave a small nod, before he stood, gaze back on Cas, who looked back with his usual intensity. “Dean,” he began, voice low, and steady, a warning tone to it. “Not in front of Jack”

“We can talk on the deck.”

Cas pressed his lips into a tight line, “Fine.” He turned away, walking to the apartments deck without another word, Dean following behind.

The silence continued even once they'd stepped onto the deck, and closed the door. Dean staring at the other, and Cas staring back. For a moment Dean regretted suggesting they talked outside. The air cold even with his jacket on, the bitter wind, biting against his already frozen cheeks. 

“Cas,” Dean finally began, “you have to leave him.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“He took your kid.”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“It wasn’t and you know that.” Dean insisted his words becoming more frantic the longer he spoke. Desperate to convince Cas, or give him the courage to leave, or anything, he just wanted his friend to be okay. “You told me, remember after Halloween? You said he’d threatened to before, and now he did, and he’ll do it again.”

Dean paused for a moment, a shaken breath parting his lips, eyes on the other, Cas only looking back, distress rested across his features. 

Dean’s own heart raced, nose burning as he felt his vision blur the slightest bit. He wasn't  
going to cry, that’ all he could tell himself for a moment. This wasn’t his problem to cry over. 

“Cas,” Dean pleaded. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you think- that you know he won’t do it again.”

“Dean.” It took Cas a moment to continue instead staring up with his wide eyes, the hazness to them unmistakable. His whole face rested in exhaustion, the bags under his eyes only worse than Dean had remembered, he looked thin, his usual perfect posture, slumped the slightest bit. “It could be worse.”

“How.”

“He could hit me.”

“He broke your fuckin’ arm.” Dean responded, his words didn’t come harsh, just steady, factual.

Cas pressed his lip in a tight line. “I fell.”

“He pushed you.”

“He could sexualy assult me.” Dean didn’t respond, unsure what of Cas’s words he could believe. “He could hurt Jack.”

“It doesn’t matter what he could do,” Dena cried. He couldn’t help the rise in his voice, not from anger but fursertaion. He just wanted Cas to understand. “It matters what he does.”

Cas’s lips parted for a moment, at first no replying coming, as he seemed to only breath. “You need to mind your own business.”

“And you deserve better.”

Dean could see a tear roll down Cas’s cheek as the other stared back at him, followed by another, and then another. “He loves me,” Cas finally whispered, making no attempt to stop the tears.

“No he doesn’t.” 

As more tears silently rolled down Cas’s cheeks, Dean took a step forward, wanting to comfort the other in some way. He took another step forward, though this time Cas stepped back, instead turning to the deck railing, slowly taking a seat on the ground, letting his legs dangle through the railing bars. 

“I’m sorry.” Cas whispered, as Dean tooka seat next to him, letting his legs dangle off the deck as well.

“Cas.” Dean began. He didn’t look to his left, instead keeping his gaze forward on the buildings across the streets and the greying sky above, that matched the chilled air. “You’ve got to stop apologising.”

“My apologies.” The smallest smile tugged at Dean’s lips. He stuffed his hands back into his jacket pockets, attempting to warm them as a gust of chilled wind came.

A moment of silence passed, Dean continuing to stare forward, his gaze dropped the slightest bit to instead study his dangling feet, and the biker boots he wore. The material old, tearing after years of use, with no replacement. “I can’t leave.” Cas whispered. “I can’t do that to Jack.”

“Cas, livin’ with abuse, that kinda shit, it fucks kids up.”

“So does being homeless.” Dean opened his mouth to respond though quickly closed it, unsure how to. “Dean, I have nowhere to go, no money, Jack doesn’t deserve that life.”

“Where would you go?”

Cas frowned, tilting his head slightly, the way he always did when he was confused. The look Dean thought was so cute, that made him want to lean in and press his lips against the other’s, see if he could kiss away that confused look. “Pardon?”

“If you had the money- if you were going t’leave him,” Dean said. “Where would you go?”

“Florida, I suppose?”

Without another word Dean stood, offering his hand to other, who only looked back, his lips pressed in a tight line. “Are you goin’ to leave me hanging?” Dean asked. He reached a little further, raising an eyebrow at Castiel.

“Dean, I don’t understand.” Despite his words Cas took Dean’s hand, using it to help himself stand.

“We’re going to the airport,” Dean said. “I’m goin’ to get you a ticket to Florida.”

“I can't let you do that.”

“It’s a Christmas present.”

Dean didn’t know what he’d expected, a hug, a thank you, some kind of indication that Cas was happy. What Dean hadn’t expected was silence, Cas only staring back with his blue eyes, seeming perfectly content with not replying. Leaving them in a heavy silence, that was only broken by the occasional traffic below. 

“Cas.” Dean said, either as a plea, or in an attempt to convince him, Dean wasn’t sure. He took a small step closer, not that there was much room between them to begin with. “Fuck man, please.”

“I can’t leave.”

“Fuck,” Dean cried, his voice rasing the slightest bit. “You deserve so much better why can’t you fuckin’ see that, you son of a bitch. You’re so smart, and kind, and good.” Good, that was the only word Dean could think of to describe the other. He was good, he was the one consistancy in Dean’s spiralling life. The warmth that held Dean’s freezing hands. The optimism that Dean found so little of. He was good to the world, and life, no matter what it had given him. “You’re so fuckin’ good.”

Dean’s lips parted to speak again though before he could Cas’s hands were brought to the sides of his face, and then the other’s lips were against his own.

Whatever thought that had been on Dean’s mind was gone, instead buzzing with a high. A euphoria that kept Dean’s lips against the others, his hands at some point having moved to the other’s hips. He was kissing Cas, not high, fully sober, fully aware of every movement, of the vague taste of tea, of the others touch, surely just as cold as his own. 

He was kissing Castiel. 

When they slowly pulled away, Dean’s breath stayed stuck in his throat, heart hammering in his chest. His hands hadn't moved from the other’s waist, while Cas’s arms rested around his neck. 

They kissed.

God Dean wanted to do it again. Over and over. They were close enough to, less then an inch between them Cas almost Dean’s height just the slightest bit shorter. 

God he wanted to do it again.

He didn’t want to leave Cas.

Or for the other to leave him.

He wanted to hold the other in his arms, for as long as he could. Kiss him as many times as he could. Feel the high that still buzzed through his mind.

Dean’s lips parted and before he could even think the words fell, “Come to LA with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consistency in chapter length? Don't know her.


	41. Chapter forty

Cas’s arms hadn’t moved from where they rested at Dean’s shoulders, while Dean’s own hands stayed on the other’s hips, the fabric of his button up unnoticeable to Dean’s frozen fingers. “I can’t do that.” Cas finally replied. His blue eyes wide as he looked up, tears no longer falling, though his eyes now held a red tinge to them, and his cheeks were a slight pink. 

“Yes you can.” Dean insisted, his voice low and steady. “You can stay with me while you figure everything out, I’ve got tons of room.” 

“What would I tell Logan.” 

“Nothing.” Dean brought his hands to Cas’s, slowly lacing his numb fingers with other’s and bringing them to their sides. “We could leave before he gets off work.”

“And Jack?”

“He comes with us.”

“What would I tell him?”

Dean paused for a moment, his gaze darting across the other’s face. His slightly pinkening noise, the unreadable expression his features sat in, his tousled black hair. He spoke in a mostly flat tone, though there was something else to it, something lighter, possibly consideration. Dean hoped so. 

“Whatever you want to, whenever you’re ready.”

“Dean.”

A moment of silence passed, Cas not continuing to speak, or seeming able to. “Cas,” Dean began, “If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for Jack. You said it yourself, he deserves better.”

“Okay.”

“What?” Dean’s gaze darted across the other's features, surely disbelief across his own. He waited for a laugh, for another argument from the other, anything, though as the seconds ticked on nothing came. “Really?”

Cas pressed his lips into a tight line before giving a small nod of his head.

“Awesome,” Dean couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, or the lightness to his tone. “Okay, cool, umm-” He took a deep breath, trying to stop his grin, though with little success. “You pack, talk with Jack. i’m goin’ t’grab my stuff, I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dean gave the smallest nod of his before he finally let go of Cas’s hands, and walked back into the apartment, the sound of Cas’s footsteps behind him. Dean was going back to LA, and Cas was coming with him. They were going together. Cas had said yes. Cas had kissed him. 

Even as Dean stepped back into Sam’s apartment, and began throwing his things back into his duffle bag he could still feel the other’s lips against his own. The high it had brought, the way it had sent his heart hammering, god he would do anything for that man. 

“Dean?” At the sound of his name, he looked up to Sam, his brother stood in the hallway entrance, a frown across his lips. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m leavin’.”

“Don’t you leave tomorrow?”

“I did but plans changed, so I'm leaving today,” Dean paused for a moment. He licked his bottom lip, eyes darting across his brother's features, and then to the ground before going back to Sam. “With Cas.”

Sam’s lips parted, in what Dean assumed was schock. “Like with Cas, Cas?”

“No, with the other Cas,” Dean replied, lacing his words with as much sarcasm as possible. “es of course Cas, Cas.”

“Are you high?”

“No,” Dean dropped the bag he had held, instead rolling up his jacket sleeve up, showing off his inner left arm. The skin a pale tone, and for the first time in years, clear, only blue veins visible against it. “Clean as Elton fuckin’ John.”

“Oh great, you had this idea sober.” Sam closed his eyes, running his hands down his face. “So let megret this straight, you’re going t’drive across the country-”

“Yep.”

“With Cas.”

“Yep.

“And jack.”

“You got it,” Dean said. “What’s next Sherlock? What happens when ice melts?”

Dean zipped up his bags before he grabbed them, his eyes glancing to the guitar that rested against one of the arm chairs. He’d have to leave it, with Cas, Jack, and their bags there wouldn’t be room for it. “That’s an awful idea.”

A frown grazed his lips as he looked back to his brother, Sam’s expression rested in an unreadable way. “Why?” Dean asked “It’s a fuckin’ awesome idea. Cas needs somewhere to go, and I got tons of extra room. It only makes sense.”

“You just got out of rehab.”

“Yah like a week ago, move on.”

“Exactly, Dean.” Sam cried. “A week ago, and a week ago you had a panic attack, and three dsys ago you came back from Cas’s hungover.” And one day ago Dean had had a second and third panic attack when he’d tried to drive to the grocery store. The second had been worse than his first, almost as if he was in the crash all over again, with the scene playing out in his head. The pain of broken ribs and wrist burning against his body, the screeching of car tires, and screams. The third had been similar to his first. He had ended up walking to the grocery, not that he’d ever tell Sam that. “maybe you should give yourself some time.” 

Dean brought one bag over his shoulder, keeping the other at his side. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Fine, maybe you don’t need time but Cas just broke up with someone he’s been with for years.” Well technically they weren't broken up yet, but Dean decided now wasn’t the time to point that out. 

“An abusive one.”

“That’s not the argument you think it is.”

Dean took a deep breath, his grip around the bag stripes tightening. “Yah, well what do you want me to do?” Dean snapped, “Ditch him and the kid on the side of the street? Fuck them over, cause life hasn’t enough.”

“Dean, I just-”

“Do I not deserve to be happy?” It was a cheap blow, but Dean was done with arguing. He wanted to get going, before Logan got back, or more importantly before Cas changed his mind. 

Sam's expression dropped for a moment, his mouth opening to reply though nothing came. “Kids,” Sam finally called, eyes still on Dean’s as Dean glared back. “Come say bye to your uncle.”

Dean’s harsh glare finally dropped as the kids came out of their room, and joined Sam at the entrance of the hall, both staring up at him. He glanced across John for a moment, his breath still stuck in his throat, and then to Ellie, who looked back with her usual wide brown eyes.

“You’re leaving?” Ellie asked, her voice almost a whisper. So soft Dean could feel a twist of stomach, the nod he gave in response more forced then he would have liked. “You could stay,” Ellie insisted, “just for maybe three more months.”

The smallest smile gazed Dean’s lips. “I can’t,” Dean replied, “I gotta get back to work.”

Ellie crossed her arms over her chest, her pleading expression becoming a dramatic pout,here gaze glaring up at Dean. God he was going to miss her. “No you don’t.”

This time Dean didn’t respond, instead pulling his brother into a quick hug, Sam only stiffly hugging back, and then John, and finally he crouched in front of Ellie. The young girl only glaring back.

“Come on El,” Dean insisted, he could still feel Sam’s eys on him, though he couldn’t care to glare back. If Sam thought it was a bad idea, that was his problem, not Dean’s. “I promise I'll come back.” 

“Pinky promise?”

“Pink promise.”

He laced his pinky with the young girls, before pulling her into a tight hug. Holding in on for a second, and then another, only letting go when he finally stood. 

He took a shaken breath, “Sammy?” Dean asked, finally looking back to his brother “Could I take Ellie’s car seat?”

After another round of goodbyes, and the impala had been filled with his and Cas’s bags, Dean slowly drove the car out of the parking lot, Cas in the passengers seat. 

He could feel his own breath become stiff as he began driving, body tense with each second that passed. Lungs never filled with enough air, no matter how many times he took a breath.

As long as he drove slow he’d be fine, as long as he avoided the main roads, and stayed off the highways, he wouldn’t have a panic attack. Or at least he hoped.

“Have you talked to Jack?” Dean finally asked, though his voice sounded forced even to himself, his gaze staying locked on the road above. 

there was a shifting from his right, and then a moment of silence. “Not yet,” Cas replied. “I should.”

“Do it when you’re ready.” 

Cas didn’t reply, and this time Dean glanced to his right, meeting the others blue eyes. “Do you want me to turn back?” Dean asked softly.

“No.” He looked back to the road, an uneasy breath leaving his lips. “Yes.”

No matter how much he wanted to, Dean didn’t argue instead, pulling into the first parking lot he could. 

“No.”

“Cas,” Dean parked the car, shifting so he could face the other. His own gaze meeting Cas’s. The uncertainty was clear across his features, blue eyes wide, his lips pressed in a tight line. Dean wanted to fix it, give him the confidence to keep going, though even Dean knew there wasn’t anything he could do now. It was Cas’s decision. “I’ll turn back if you want me to, but you gotta decide now.”

A moment of silence passed, Cas’s eyes staying locked on Dean’s even as his lips parted. “Keep driving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this took me a long time to edit.... like waaaaay to long! But oh well here it is!   
> It’s also chapter forty... wow, I honestly didn’t think I’d get this far! And there’s still a lot to go! There’s actually a few upcoming chapters that I’m  
> Super excited about (minus the next chapter) I’m kinda worried about that one cause I only have a vague idea of what I’m going to do!   
> But anyways enough of me rambling! I hope you all are having a fantastic Friday!  
> Lots of love, paige


	42. Chapter forty one

Dean had never been to a zoo, as a kid he didn’t have the money, and as an adult, it seemed sad to spend the day alone at a zoo. He'd quickly come to accept that he’d simply never go to one, until they pulled up to chicago. 

They’d been driving for two and had decided they needed a break. Dean had suggested the zoo, for Jack, though the moment Dean had stepped in he knew he was going to adore it. He was happy to follow Cas and Jack around to wherever the child wanted, bouncing between various animals, and play areas. The only downfall being Dean himself seemed to be as much of an attraction as anything else there. Often getting stopped by parents and teens for photos. It wasn’t until they'd reached the penguin exhibit, where they could stand apart from the crowd that Dean was given a break.

“Jack what’s that?” 

“A penjin!” 

Dean laughed, moving his phone so it no longer recorded the penguins and instead pointed at Jack. The child looking up to Dean with a wide grin, his eyes bright, and hair done in it’s usual mess of blond strands. 

“Penguin,” Castiel corrected. Dean looked over to the other man, though kept his camera on Jack. “Pain-gwin.”

“Pen-” Jack began slowly, his face scrunched slightly in concentration, as he attempted to say the word. “Jin!” 

Dean laughed again, despite Cas’s sigh. “Do you like the penguins?” Dean asked, getting an excited nod from the child, Dean’s grin only widening. He couldn't help it, the child's happiness was contagious, warm and comforting. He reminded Dean of Cas, the warmth, the smiles, the only difference being how much more frequent Jack’s happiness was. 

“I- I love tem,” Jack cried. He bounced slightly on his heels, as he spoke his wide eyes continuing to look up at Dean. “so many!”

Dean pressed stop on the camera’s recording, putting his phone back into his pocket after he’d posted the video to his instagram’s story. He crouched to the child’s height looking back to the penguins that walked around behind the glass. “Which one’s your favourite?”

From his corner of his eye he could see Cas step closer, a habit the other had picked up on since they’d left. If Dean was near the child, if he touched Jack, even as simple as helping zip up his jacket, Cas was there, tense, eyes on Dean as if waiting for something. Dean had yet to mention it, though he certainly had noticed, especially that no matter what was happening Cas refused to leave Jack alone with Dean.

“Tat one.” Jack said. He pressed a finger to the glass, pointing to a cluster of five penguins.

“The tallest one?”

“Yah!”

Dean looked back to Jack, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “Do you think it has a name?

Jack didn‘t respond, only shaking his head.

“Should we give it a name?”

There was another pause, where Jack once again didn’t reply, insead continuing to stare at the penguins with an intense look. “Tony!” Jack finally declared. He turned back to Dean, his concentrated gaze becoming a large grin that Dean returned.

As Jack turned away from the penguins, and began walking off to the next exhibit, Dean stood. 

“Are you sure you’re fine with me and Jack staying with you.” Cas asked as they followed Jack down the path. 

Dean glanced to the other who walked almost shoulder to shoulder with Dean. Close enough that he could feel the other’s heat, the occasional brush of his trench coat against Dean’s hands as their arms swung. They'd been yet to talk about anything, them kissing, what they were, and part of Dean was fine with that.

He’d never been good at talking.

Though apart of him wanted to. He wanted to sit Cas down, and explain everything he adored about the other. His warmth, his vibrant eyes. Every laugh, and scrunch of his nose. The way the early January light glowed against his skin as they walked. Dean wanted to confess everything, and then lean in and kiss the other as if that was the last time he’d ever breath.

Let his fingers trail across the other’s cheeks as if they’d never touched before. Let his hands brush through the other’s hair as if that would be there last time. Confess his love as if they’d die the next day. 

“Cas,” Dean insisted, “If i wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t have offered, I want you guys to stay with me.”

“Thank you Dean.”

The smallest smile tugged at his lips as his gaze stayed on the other, the other continuing to look forward. “You’ll love LA,” Dean continued. “If Floria was star wars, LA would be star trek.” 

This time Cas looked back, a confused frown across his lips. “I don’t understand how your movie obsession involves me loving LA.”

“Fine LA’s Florida’s cooler cousin.” 

“I don’t think you realize that Florida isn’t that bad.” 

“As far as i’m concerned Florida's a shit ton of gun owning maniacs.

The smallest smile grazed Cas’s lips, and for a moment Dean could only grin back. He loved seeing the other happy, even if it was only a small smile for seconds. The way it lit his face, the way it made his eyes shine, it suited Cas. 

“Dean-”

Dean glanced forward, his mouth dropping in shock as the next exhibit came into view. “Holy fuck,” Dena cried, cutting Cas off, “There’s fuckin’ polar bears.”

He grabbed Cas’s hand, dragged the other man forward. Behind him he could hear Cas laugh though Dean didn't stop until they were with Jack, directly in front of the glass that separated them from the polar bears. 

“Look at those son of a bitches.” Dean cried. He looked to the other, with a wide grin, Cas smiling back, “they’re fuckin’ awesome.”

From the polar bears, they made their way to the bird house, which frankly Dean wasn’t nearly as fond of. Then to an ice cream place for Jack, and finally a monkey exhibit. By the time they’d reached the gift shop, where Jack had quickly run off, the sun had begun to set, and the cold had become almost unbearable. 

“This things fugly.” Dean said as him and Cas wandered through the gift shop together. Dean stopped in front of bin, of what he assumed was stuffed monkey’s, grabbing one to show the other. 

“It isn’t that bad.”

“Don’t defend the stuffed monkey.”

“Why? Is it your twin.”

There was a small smile across Cas’s lips, that Dean couldn't help but return. “fuck off,” Dean laughed. 

Before Cas could reply, he was cut off as Jack came running back to them. “Daddy!” the child cried, a stuffed elephant in one hand, and giraffe in his other. A wide grin was spread across his face as he stopped in front of them, raising the elephant for Cas to see. “I can- I can have.”

There was a moment where Cas didn’t respond, the hesitation, and uncertainty clear across his face clear to even Dean. “Not now Bee,” Cas replied, “can you put it back please.”

“Please!”

“Not no-“

“Cas,” Dean cut in. “He can get it, I’ll pay.”

“I can’t let you do that.” 

“I want to buy it.” 

“Yeah!” Jack cried, pushing the elephant into Cas’s arms. He then raised the giraffe, “tis one for,” Jack began explaining, “for papa.”

Dean could feel his heart drop, as Cas’s features faltered for a moment. Falling in a way that Dean couldn't quite explain, maybe grief, exhaustion, though it was only momentarily before Cas had his lips pressed in a tight line, whatever distress that had once been there gone. “Jack you can have the elephant.” 

“Both!” 

“You can have the elephant or neither.”

“Daddy, please!” Jack insisted, tears beginning to roll down his face. 

Dean raised a hand to the back of his neck, as he glanced around the shop, unsure exactly where to look. He could see a few people glancing their way, mostly women, with a look of pity, and sympathy. Probably thankful for once it wasn’t their own child making a scene.

“Jack, I will not do this with you right now.” Dean could hear the slightest shake in Cas’s voice, a slight weakness that weighed on Dean’s heart.

He looked back to Cas though the other’s gaze stayed on Jack who’d crumbled to the floor in tears. The exhaustion was clear across Cas’s face, the bags under his eyes, the ashen colour to his skin, and the way his eyes shined, similar to a way Dean had seen his own many times before. 

“Cas,” Dean finally said, getting the other's attention. “It’s getting late, how about we get some dinner, and find a hotel.”

Cas glanced to Dean before looking back to Jack, giving the smallest nod of his head. Despite the nod Cas didn’t move, staying completely still.

“Do you want me to carry him?”

“No.” Dean took a slow breath, watching in silence as Cas put the stuffed animals down, and instead picked up Jack, who continued to sob. 

There was a moment where Cas didn’t speak, instead only holding the crying child tightly to his chest, chin rested against the top of Jack’s head, his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas finailly whispered. He looked up with wide eyes, Dean only staring back. 

“Don’t apologize.” Dean glanced to the child, his own heart heavy, seeming more and more weighted down with each sob that Jack let out. “Let’s just find a hotel, and get some sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! a (mostly) happy chapter! I promise there are more happy chapters to come!  
> Anyways I don't really have much to say, so I guess yah, thank you so much for reading this, and commenting, and giving kudos and all that stuff, I know I say it a lot but it really does mean the absolute world, and I don't always reply, but I read them all ( a lot) and I just wanted to thank you guys for sticking through this book with me cause it's much longer then I originally expected!  
> Anyways have an amazing Thursday!  
> lot's of love, paige


	43. Chapter forty two

“What’re you naming him?” Dean asked, watching Jack, who sat on the hotel bed next to the one Dean laid across, play. The child had the stuffed elephant from Christmas in one hand, and the stuffed elephant that Dean had bought from the zoo in his other. Dean couldn’t help it, Jack had wanted the elephant so bad, so of course he’d turned around and bought it, ignoring Cas’s disapproving glare the whole time. 

“Tom!”

Dean brought the glass cup to his lips, taking a drink of the gin he’d bought from the nearby liquor store. The alcohol burned down his throat in the best, most needed way possible, though it still wasn’t enough to calm the adrenaline that had come from driving. “Isn’t the other one Tom?”

Jack looked up to Dean for a second, before looking back to the stuffed animals. “No,” he lifted the one elephant in the air. “Tis’s Tommy.”

“Oh, so you have Tom, and tommy?” 

“Yah!”

The smallest smile tugged at Dean’s face as he shook his head. “Cause That’s not goin’ to be confusing.”

Dean brought the glass back to his lips, taking another drink as he watched the child continue to play. His gaze stayed on Jack until the sound of the bathroom door came, and Cas stepped out in his pajamas, his hair wet from his shower, a few strands sticking to his forehead. 

“Jack,” Cas said, as he sat next to his son. “It’s time to put your pyjamas on, do you need help?” 

“No!” Jack cried. He grabbed the clothing from Cas’s hands, before running off to the hotel’s bathroom, leaving Dean and Cas alone in the large suite. 

For a moment they sat in complete silence, Dean’s gaze on the empty glass in his hand, studying the little bit of alcohol left in it. His gaze stayed there for another second before he stood from his bed, a low creaking coming as he walked across the room and to the small kitchen where he’d left the bottle of gin.

“Dean,” he hummed in response, pouring himself another glass before he brought it back to his lips. “I should apologize about Jack earlier today.”

Dean turned to the other, the smallest frown across his lips. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.” Despite his reassurance, Dean doubted Cas believed it. “Kids cry, it’s part of the contract of having them.” He walked back across the room. At first he hesitated at his own bed, before continuing to Cas’s taking a seat next to the other. “Besides, I had tons of fun anyways.”

“You did?”

“Yah,” Dean looked to Cas, a smile across his own face. He could feel his heart quicken, as his gaze met the others, the realization hitting that maybe he’d sat a little closer than friends should have. Their thighs touching, arms brushing with each little movement, lips so close Dean could easily lean in. Not that he would, they were friends. Friends that occasionally kissed, and slept together, but friends non the less, nothing more.

Dean’s gaze had dropped to Cas’s lips, staying there for another second before he looked back to Cas’s eyes. His heart still hammering against his chest, body tense with nerves. “Did you see the fuckin polar bears?” 

A small smile grazed Cas’s lips as he gave a nod. “I did.”

“The only thing that could have made it better is if there were koala bears.”

“Koalas,” Castiel corrected.

“That’s what I said.”

“No you said koala bears, they aren’t bears.” 

“Yes they are, have you seen those sons of a bitches?”

“Dean,” Cas insisted, though there was a lightness to his voice, a tone that matched the small smile across his face. Dean wished that smile would stay forever, it wasn’t like the ones that came when Jack was around, but it was better than his usually scowl. Lighting up his face, giving a shine to his eyes that wasn’t usually there. “I specialized in zoology.”

“Fine smartass,” Dean shifted his body, so he could face the other better. “Why aren’t they bears?”

“They’re marsupials.” Dean brought the glass back to his lips, as Cas explained, the alcohol once again burning down his throat. “Meaning they’re more similar to kangaroos, then bears.”

“Then why do the kangaroos look like fuckin bears?”

“Because of convergent evolution.”

A small smile tugged at Dean’s lips, as he gave a small shake of his head. “You’re too smart.”

The moment the words left Dean’s lips Cas’s expression dropped, and with it Dean’s heart. “I”m sorry,” Cas apologized, his blue eyes wide as he looked back to Dean. 

“No Cas,” Dean quickly said, desperate to see Cas’s smile return. “It’s good, I like it.”

“It’s cute.”

They didn’t stay up much longer after that and soon went to bed, not that Dean had ever planned to actually fall asleep. He refused to, terrified of the nightmares to come, unless It was with a few bottles in hand, and with only one bottle of gin left, that wasn't possible. Instead Dean was left to stare into the darkness, the silence filled by nothing but his low breaths, until sometime after two in the morning when that was broken by Jack’s sobs. 

Dean let out a groan, bringing a hand to his face as he slowly sat up. “Cas,” Dean mumbled out in the direction of the other’s bed. “Is everything good?” 

Through the darkness Dean could just see the outline of Cas, the other sat up with Jack in his arms, the child continuing to sob. “Yes.” 

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Cas repeated. Despite his words Dean stayed sat up, squinting in an attempt to see better. Jack’s sobs still echoed through the suite, though they’d become slightly muffled as, Dean assumed, the child buried his face into Cas’s shoulder. 

“Dean.” Cas said, “go to sleep.” 

Without another argument Dean slowly layed back down, not that he would fall asleep.

Instead he kept his eyes open, staring at the rest of their suite, while his back stayed to Cas. The sobs continued for what seemened like hours, only broken by Cas’s low voice, speaking random words in an attempt to calm the child. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Cas asked softly, when the child’s sobs had become soft sniffles. Dean held his breath as a second passed, and then another, no response coming, no shift of the bed, even Jack’s sniffles had stopped for a moment. “Then what’s wrong?” 

“I-” Jack began, his voice breaking with more sobs. The word had come with so much distress, Dean could feel his own heart weigh down, his eyes squeezing shut tighter. “I-I want papa!” The child cried bursting into another round of sobs.

“Jack,” Cas whispered, the crack in his usually steady voice unmistakable. “I’m sorry bee.”

Jack didn’t reply, instead continuing to cry. His sobs somehow louder than before, becoming more and more heartbroken with which passing second. Ringing through the large room, and bringing an uneasy feeling to Dean’s stomach, he wished he could cover his hear’s, or help, though he doubted Cas even wanted him listening, never mind trying to help.

“Would you like it if we went on a walk?” 

There was low creaking, followed by footsteps and shuffling as Dean assumed Cas moved around the room, putting on his boots and coat. The door was then pulled open, and closed, leaving the once unbearably loud room, in a deadly silence. 

Dean laid still for another moment, waiting to see if Cas would return, before sitting up, flicking on his bedside lamp. It didn’t do much to light the room though it gave off enough of a glow for him to make his way through the suite without tripping; to the kitchen, where he opened the second bottle of gin, and poured himself a glass.

He brought the glass to his lips taking a long drink before bringing both the cup and bottle back to his bed. 

It was sometime after his third glass, that the door was pushed back open, and Cas stepped through, Jack in his arms. The child no longer cried, and instead was fast asleep, his face buried into Cas’s shoulder, and arms around the other’s neck. 

“Dean,” Cas barely whispered, as his gaze landed on Dean, his eyes wide, lips parted the slightest bit. “I thought you were asleep.”

Part of him wanted to lie, say he’d just woken up, that he had been asleep, though the lie didn’t seem to come. “Yah, I couldn’t fall asleep.” Dean’s gaze dropped to his glass for a second, the alcohol much easier to look at then Cas’s exhausted expression. “Sorry.”

Cas didn’t reply, instead placing Jack on his bed before he sat next to Dean, the silence continuing on, not that Dean minded. He had nothing to say, no way to fix Cas’s problems, or even give some kind of reassurance. 

“When I had first adopted him,” Cas began, his voice holding nothing but emptiness, hanging in the silent room, “he cried almost every night for months.” Dean looked to his right, though Cas didn’t look back instead continuing to watch Jack. “There was nothing I could do but sit with him, and listen to him cry until he fell back asleep.”

A small breath parted Dean’s lips, his gaze staying on Cas’s face, unsure how to reply. The other looked somewhere between exhausted and emotionless, as if unsure whether to fall apart or cling onto his remaining strength. His lips pressed in a tight line, pointed the slightest bit down, his dark hair its usual mess of strands, giving his skin an even more sickening colour. 

“I don’t want to go through again,” Cas whispered. “I don’t know if I can.”

Cas closed his eyes for a moment, Dean only continuing to watch. Part of him wanted to lean forward and wrap the other in a hug, though instead he sat still, hands staying around his glass. “I-ju,” Cas paused, taking a deep breath. “i want him to be okay.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Dean finally said, speaking at the same low volume as Cas. “It's just going to take some time.” 

“What if I’m doing the wrong thing again, what if I always choose the wrong things for him.”

“Well you chose to adopt him, and that was a pretty fuckin good choice.”

The smallest smile grazed Cas’s lips as his gaze went back to Jack. 

For a moment that’s how they sat, both watching the child sleep, neither speaking, neither looking to the other. Dean could feel Cas’s heat, his shoulder touching Dean’s, every rise and fall of his chest. They were close, they always were so close, and yet at that moment they’d never been farther apart. 

What was Cas thinking. Dean wasn’t sure.

What was Cas feeling. Dean didn’t know.

Was he okay. Dean really hoped so.

“I should explain things to him.”

“Everything?” Dean asked, his gaze going back to the other. 

Cas paused for a moment, a deep breath raising his chest. “As much as he needs to know.”

“Do you want to talk to him alone?”

Cas pressed his lips together before giving the smallest nod of his head. “Is that okay?”

“Yah,” Dean stood, grabbing his leather jacket from the chair he had draped it across. He didn’t want to leave, but if that was the one thing Cas wanted from him, Dean was willing to give it to him. “Take as long as you need.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

He replied with a small smile, which despite the pain in his heart, Cas didn't return. Dean then turned away, pulling on his boots before he stopped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek!  
> sorry this took so long everyone, I don't know, I've had the time to finish it I've just been procrastinating a lot, And writing like ten chapters a head because I don't have an attention span.  
> So yah that's kinda what I've been doing.  
> I've also been sad about the new supernatural trailer.  
> Been loving all the destiel/strawberry dress fan art.  
> and kinda wishing I wrote fifty percent of this book in Cas's perspective.  
> yah! so I've been doing pretty good!  
> Anyways enough of my rambling! I hope you all have an amazing Tuesday, and enjoyed the chapter!   
> Lot's of love, paige


	44. Chapter forty three

“When’d you move to New York?”

“A few years ago, five I think, I was going to Princeton university and transferred to NYU.” There was a pause as Cas spoke, his gaze burning against the side of Dean’s head, though Dean didn’t turn. Instead his gaze stayed locked on the dark road in front of him, only lit by the impalas headlights. “When did you move to LA?” 

He could feel the adrenaline as he drove, the same way it has since they’d left New York, coursing through his veins, leaving him tense. At times the anxiety would get worse, to the point that even Dean knew he shouldn't be driving as images would flash through his mind, or non existent noises would blare through his ears. Over and over, no matter how loud he turned the music up.

Sometimes it was all he could focus on. 

The fear.

The helplessness.

The feeling that the world crumbled under his feet.

At times it would get so bad he’d pull over, fumbling out some lie, like he needed to make a call, or get some food. Anything but the truth.

“Dean,” Cas said, which he only replied to with a hum, “When did you move to LA?”

“Oh, uh when i was twelve anbd then again at twenty.” A deep breath filled his lungs, then parted his lips, his gripping tightening around the wheel. He could feel his heart hammering, beating faster with each passing second. “After my mom passed, my dad had trouble sticking around in one place so we moved around alot.”

“Where else did you live?”

“Boise Idaho, Cape Girardeau, Missouri, Columbus, Ohio,” Dean paused for a moment. “I’ve been everywhere,” most places only for a few months, though the longest had been a bit over a year, and the shortest a week. “Why’d you transfer to NYU?”

At first Cas didn't reply, the sound coming from Dean’s right being nothing more than a shaken breath, then more silence. The stiff feeling that had settled in the car unmistakable. Another shaken breath came. “Logan,” Cas finally whispered, “he was moving back to New York and asked me to come with him.” 

Dean didn’t reply, unsure how to and instead glanced to the rearview mirror, looking to Jack who was fast asleep in the back. Cas had talked to him that morning, and since the child had been much more quiet, crying at random times, and though Cas would never admit it, Dean knew it was hurting the other, 

His gaze stayed on the child for another moment, glancing across his features. His round cheeks, and slightly puckered out lips, one of the stuffed elephants wrapped his arms.

“Dean!”

At the sudden scream of his name Dean’s gaze dropped to the front window, his heart leaping out his throat, as a truck sped out in front of them from a side road. His foot slammed on the break, his eyes closing for barely a second before opening again as the car skidded into a spin.

The sun glaring against Dean’s eyes, that was the only thing he could truly focus on, as the world spun around him in a mix of blues and greys. 

“Dean.” 

He could hear the screams to his right, just over the hammering of his own heart. He was going to die, maybe he was dying, Dean wasn’t sure.

“Hear.” 

The car stopped spinning and Dean jolted forward his ribs and wrist searing in pain. Everything might as well have fallen around him, the helpless feeling crumbling upon him, burning worse then any part of his body. 

“Dean.”

He was going to die. 

“Breath.” 

His head spinning, despite the car no longer moving.

“Can.” 

Pain.

Dying.

More pain.

“Dean!” 

His eyes snapped open, though his heart continued to hammer, gaze meeting the front window of the car, and outside the dark night. The car didn’t spin, in fact it hadn’t even left the road, and instead they were stopped just in front of the side road, the trucks tail lights far in the distance.

He wasn’t dying, or maybe he was. His heart certainly felt like it.

Deam gasped for a breath though it didn’t fill his lungs, “breathe Dean.” He could hear Cas’s voice from his right, though no matter how much he wanted to he couldn’t listen, drowning in the panic, the helpless feeling of death at his fingertips. 

“Dean you're okay, we’re okay.” 

Dean gasped for another breath, only shaking his head in response. He attempted to bring his hands to his hair though a force held them down, Cas’s hands.

“Dean!”

He pushed the other away, not caring how much force he used before frantically pulling his seat belt off and stumbling out of the car. He didn’t remember pulling over, or stopping the car, though Dean didn't take the time to think about it, he needed the car as far away as possible. He needed to breathe, or die. 

Dean continued to stumble off the road, and onto the grass side where he collapsed. No longer able to handle the pain that burned at his ribs. 

He couldn’t breath. 

He couldn’t live.

Yet he couldn’t seem to die.

“Dean,” he heard Cas run to him though he didn’t look to the other, instead squeezing his eyes shut, letting his hands go to his hair.

He didn’t know how long he layed in the grass, desperate gasps shaking his body. Hands tearing at his hair, though when his eyes finally opened, and his breathing had calmed down Cas was crouched next to him, a worried look across his face.

“Dean,” the other began slowly.

“It was just-” Dean whispered, unable to hide the weak tone in his voice. “It was just a panic attack.”

Cas’s frown deepened, as he tilted his head to the side. “Are you sure?” 

“Yah,” Dean took a shaken breath, the chilled air burning against his lungs despite the rising temperature of his skin. “They’ve been- I’ve been having them since rehab.”

The last word came out quieter, his gaze dropping from Cas’s and to his hands. They were shaking slightly, and through the darkness Dean could see the dark shades of a liquid that stained his finger tips, his blood, strands of hair stuck to it. Had he really been digging into his scalp that badly. 

Cas didn’t reply, and instead slowly raised his hand, Dean staying frozen as Cas brought it to his temple. The touch though soft, burned against Dean’s throbbing head the pain only blurring with the rest that controlled his body, continuing to burn until Cas lowered his hand. “You’re bleeding,” Cas whispered softly, “do you have any bandages in the car?”

“It’ll be fine, let’s just get going.”

“Can you drive?”

Dean’s gaze went to the impala, the adrenaline already beginning to race, a lump forming in his throat at just the thought of sitting in the driver's seat. Not only his own life in his hands, but Cas’s and Jack’s as well. 

“No,” Dean finally said, in a low tone, though through the silence it came out louder, echoing through the dark night. “Can you?”

Cas pressed his lips into a tight line before giving the smallest shake of his head. “I dont have my license.”

“Shit.” Dean tilted his head up looking at the stars that scattered the sky.

He had yet to stand, Cas still crouched next to him. He couldn’t find the strength to stand, or move, or be alive. The exhaustion was kicking in and frankly part of him wondered what would happen if he simply let it win. 

“When’d we enter Nebraska?”

“An hour ago I think.” Dean only gave the smallest nod of his head. “We could fly to LA.”

“I’m not getting ina fuckin’ plane, besides,” Dean let out shaken breath. He ran a hand down his face, able to feel as he smeared the blood across his cheek, though at that point he couldn't find the will to care. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“We could catch a bus.”

“Once again,” Dean continued, not caring to control the raising volume of his voice. “We’re in the middle of fuckin’ no where!”

Cas immediately closed his mouth, his blue eyes wide, as he stared back at Dean, not speaking, for a moment and then another. Only staring back intensely, his face casted in shadows by the moonlight above. “I’m going to check on Jack.” Cas finally whispered, standing without another word, and walking back to the impala. 

A pain burned at Dean's heart as he watched the other walk away, having to clench his jaw to stop the tears from falling. Fuck.

Fuck.

Dean stared at the impala, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket as he watched Cas lean into the car. What were they going to do. Dean wouldn't drive, he couldn’t, and there didn’t seem to be a bus stop or airport for hours. Freezing in the middle of nowhere seemed to be their only option.

Freezing in Nebraska. 

An hour or so from South Dakota.

Slowly Dean pulled his phone from his pocket. Every inch of his body begging him not to as he opened his contacts, though he had no other choice.

He pressed call, and immediately the ringing began.

Guilt heavy in his stomach.

Ringing.

Dread.

More ringing.

Fear.

Then a grumbled hello answered, and Dean’s heart almost stopped.  
“Bobby?” 

~~~

Dean glanced over his shoulder to Cas who was sat in the back, fast asleep, one arm around Jack, who slept with his face buried in Cas’s side. For once Cas looked peaceful, with his eyes gently shut, and lips parted the slightest bit, insead of the usual frown that weighed down his face. Free of worries, and responsibilities, Dean wished he could be like that more often.

He shifted back so he sat properly in the passenger, gaze never meeting Bobby’s, and instead looking to his hands. How long had it been since he’d last seen the other, eight, almost nine years. It had been the day before his dad’s funeral, the funeral Dean had been too high to attend.

“Sammys doing good.” Dean finally said, his voice seeming to echo in the silent truck. 

“I talked with him last week.” 

Dean didn’t flinch despite the drop of his heart. He hadn’t known what to expect. Part of him had assumed Sam would follow in Dean’s lead and stop talking to Bobby. The other part of him had hoped Sam would have, at least he wouldn’t be the only asshole then. 

“He’s done well for himself,” Dean finally looked up, glancing to Bobby who nodded in agreement. Dean parted his lips to continue though for a moment he didn’t speak. “Have you met his kids?” 

“I met his boy a few years back.”

The smallest smile grazed Dean’s lips as he grabbed his phone. He unlocked it then went to his photo choosing the first one that had both kids in it; one from Disneyland, where they each wore their Mickey Mouse.

“They’re awesome,” Dean said. He raised the phone, so Bobby could give it a quick glance, before turning back to the road.

“John-“ Bobby began, Dean humming in response. “He doesn’t talk?”

“Yah, Sammy called it selective mutism,” Dean put his phone back in his pocket, gaze shifting to the passenger window, where he could watch the fields whizz by in various shades of balck, only lit by the moon’s light.

“He chooses not to talk?” Bobby asked, “when your brother was a kid I couldn’t get him to shut up if I stapled his mouth shut.”

The smallest smile gazed Dean’s lips, counting to watch the scenery. His heart had calmed down, and the bleeding along the sides of his head had stopped, though there was still an uneasy feeling in his stomach. A tenseness to his muscles as he sat in the truck, his body stuck between fight or fly. 

“It’s somethin’ to do with Jess passing. He doesn’t talk to people who cause anxiety, and as far as I know that’s everyone but his therapist.” Dean took a slow breath, the air filling his lungs, then parting his lips. “Sammy,” another hesitant breath, as he looked back to Bobby, voice containing nothing but an empty tone. “He doesn't talk about it much, but I know it’s hard on him.”

“And you’?”

“You’ve talked with Sam, you’ve seen the news, you know how well i’ve been doing.”

“I wanna hear from you, not your brother.” For the first time since he’d picked them up, Bobby looked to Dean, they're eyes meeting. They hadn’t touched either, not as much as a handshake, but at that moment Dean wanted nothing more than to pull the other into a tight hug. To squeeze his eyes shut, and feel the other’s warmth, smell the alcohol that always clung to Bobby, and pretend everything was okay for even a second. The way he had as a child.

Dean held the other’s gaze for another second before he looked back to the dark road in front of them, no longer able to look at the other.

He could feel the pain in his heart, the turning of his stomach, as his lips stayed firmly shut, the words stuck in his throat. He didn’t know what to say, or what, of everything he’d destroyed, he was willing to admit to.

“I’m still a singer,” he finally whispered. His voice seemed to echo back to him ringing through his head, slow, mockingly. 

“and an addict.”

“I sleep around a lot.”

“With women.”

He brought his hands to his eyes, quickly rubbing at them to stop the tears that had begun to form, as a shaken breath parted his lips. Doing it was one thing, but admitting it out loud, to someone so similar, so close to his father, was a completely other. “And men.”

Maybe it would have been better if his panic attack had killed him like it had felt so close to doing. Took his last breath, ended the wirthdrawl, the suffering, the destruction he caused. Dean wouldn’t have cared if it was painful, he would’ve taken anything, even now he might be willing, as long as it ended with his last breath parting his lips, and his heart no longer beating. 

“I’m depressed.”

And suicidal. 

“And tired.”

“I’ve been a pretty shitty person.” Dean glanced from the road to his hands, his fingers still stained with dried blood. 

“How’d you meet your boyfriend?”

Dena looked to the rearview mirror, once again glancing across Cas’s features, and then to Jack, sleeping peacefully under Cas’s trench coat. He was worried about the kid, almost as much as he was for Cas. 

“No, he’s just a friend,” Dean finally whispered, looking back to the dark road that spread out in front of them. “He had some shit goin’ on so I'm letting him stay with me for a bit.”

“That doesn’t sound like a shitty person to me.” 

Dean didn’t respond, only locking his jaw, forcing his gaze to stay forward, he could still feel a slight burning at his ribs, the taste of coffee settling across his tongue. Neither caused much pain, instead making him shift in discomfort, bringing a feeling to Dean’s stomach that he couldn't quite describe. 

Dread.

Fear.

Helplessness.

As if someone had handed him a weight and demanded he swam. 

“You know,” Bobby finally began, voice holding a pained tone that he hadn’t spoken in before. “You didn’t have to cut me out.”

And there it was, the conversation Dean had been so desperate to avoid, the one thing he wished they could simply forget about. How was he supposed to describe the guilt that built up any time he looked to Bobby, similar to when he looked at his nephew. How was he supposed to explain that all he could see was his dad, dead because of him. 

He couldn’t even explain it to himself, never mind out loud.

“I know,” he finally whispered, unsure he could continue. “After the funeral, picking up the phone just got harder and harder.” Another shaken breath filled Dean’s lungs as he desperately tried to calm his rising heart rate. “I killed one of your best friends.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Dean didn’t respond, instead clenching his teeth together, attempting to stop the forming tears, and the burning at his nose. That’s all he seemed to do since rehab, cry and try to breath. Panic, and tear his hair out. Want to die, yet never find the courage to do the final step.

“Get some sleep” Bobby said, “you’re looking like shit.”

The smallest small gazed Dean’s lips, though it wasn’t enough to stop the weight that clung to his heart. “And what, you're just going to arrive the next twenty hours to LA?”

“We’ll stop in colorado. Now sleep, you need it.”

This time Dean didn’t argue instead twisting his body so he laid on his side, facing the passenger window. He let his eyes close, for a second doing nothing but listening, to his breathing, to Bobby’s, to the hum of the truck's engine. The sounds all soft, luling him to sleep.

“Thank you,” Dean whispered.

“Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, consistent chapter length?? Don't know her!  
> Anyways if you enjoy my writing and want to read more of my pics, I posted a new one yesterday!  
> It's called until we fall and it's. teenage destiel au, that revolves around Dean after he's sent to Sonny's boy home.  
> It shouldn't be as long as Dear Addiction, and it also shouldn't be as sad though it does still revolve around some touchy subjects such as mental illness and internalized homophobia!  
> so if you're bored check it out! and have an amazing day!  
> lot's of love, paige


	45. Chapter forty four

After saying goodbye to Bobby, with promises to call him soon, Dean had only a few minutes to show Castiel around the house before he was being picked up by Crowley, and dragged to the recording studio. It had been the slowest four hours of Dean’s life, jumping between playing the guitar and singing, making small tweaks to sounds, and being constantly worried about Cas and Jack. What they were doing, if they were comfortable, if something had happened. 

He’d shown them around, insisted they could go anywhere, minus his or Lee’s room which both needed searching, eat anything, play in the heated pool, though Cas had seemed unconvinced. As if when Dean returned he’d go back on every promise he’d made, no matter how many times he’d made it. 

By ten o'clock when Crowley’s ferrari approached Dean’s own street the nerves hadn’t calmed down, if anything they’d gotten worse. As he sat in the passenger seat, his knee bounced continuously, gaze on the passenger window, watching the familiar houses pass, much too slow for Dean’s comfort. 

“The album’s going to be shit,” Dean finally said, breaking the silence they’d sat in for most of the drive. He didn’t look to the other, even as Crowley cleared his throat, keeping his gaze firmly on the window. 

“We’ll slap your pretty face on it, and no one will care about the music.” Dean didn’t reply, and for a moment Crolwey didn’t continue, the car once again falling in a silence, as they turned onto Dean’s road. “Things are looking good for you,” Crowley finally continued, “the whole Jack act, the press is adoring it.”

“It’s not an act.” Deam grumbled.

“Either way, it’s working in your favour.”

Dean clenched his jaw, a deep breath filling his lungs as they pulled up to his house. He pushed the passenger door open, determined not to give Crowley another glance, until the other man cleared his throat, getting Dean’s attention.

“Dean,” Crowley said. Dean turned his head, his gaze meeting the others. For a moment Crowley didn’t continue, instead letting the silence sit around them, only disturbed by the soft gusts of wind that chilled Dean’s cheeks. “It's good so see you clean.”

“Oh don’t be such a chick.”

Before Crowley could argue, Dean slammed the passenger door closed, and turned away, beginning the walk up his own driveway. At the end, outside his garage was the impala, and next to her a dark blue Aston Martin's Vanquish, an expressive sports car, not worth the money, with an ugly outer, and an even uglier interior.

“Hey baby,” Dean hummed softly. He brought his hand to the impalas roof, letting his finger trail across the cold metal. He’d thought they were going to have to leave her in Nebraska though luckily Bobby was a little smarter than Dean, and had brought a tow truck. 

When he reached the end of the roof he let his hands fall back to his side, continuing the rest of the way to his front door, and into his kitchen. Inside he could hear low talking from the living room, though before he continued he stopped at his fridge grabbing a bottle of beer.

“Another car?” Dean called as he walked through the small hall that separated his kitchen from the living room, twisting off the bottles cap, before he brought it to his lips for a quick drink. “What happened to you wanting to open a bar?”

When he stopped into the living room, both Cas and Lee’s eyes were on him. Lee sat on one of the armchairs, while Cas sat at the far end of Dean’s L shaped couch, Jack on the ground in front of him, playing with a few toys. “You're just jealous.” 

“Of what? A fuckin’ Aston Martins?” 

Before Lee could reply, Jack cut him off. “Bean!” The child cried, jumping up from where he had sat, toys completely forgotten about as he ran towards Dean.

“Hey kid,” Dean hummed unable to stop the smile that had already spread across his face. Dean crouched to Jack’s height, the child looking back with wide eyes, his lips spread out in a wide grin. “Have you been havin’ fun?” 

Jack nodded his head. 

Though Dean’s gae stayed on the child he could feel Cas’s eyes burning against him, watching every movement made, every shift closer to the child, and every shift Jack made closer to Dean. He didn’t need to look up to know the expression that would sit across Cas’s features, lips in a frown, eyes narrowed, emotionless and unreadable.

All around it turned Dean’s stomach, the whole situation burning worse then Cas’s glares ever could. He’d never hurt Jack, he couldn’t imagine laying a hand on the child, so why couldn’t Cas trust him. 

Jack grabbed the sleeve off Dean's jacket into his small fist, giving it a slight tug towards where he’d sat moments before. “We can- we can play,” he declared, still looking up to Dean with his wide eyes.

“Jack,” Cas called, the child’s head turning at the sound of his name, though Dean continued to watch him. “Do you remember our deal?” 

“No.” Jack turned back to Dean with the widest grin possible. He raised a finger to his lips, making a soft shh, Dean mimicking the action, though unable to make the sound through his wide smile. 

Cas stood, walking to where Dean crouched. “You got to stay up until Dean returned, now it’s time for you to sleep.”

“No!”

“Jack-”

“Daddy!” Jack looked from Cas to Dean looking up with puppy dog eyes, his bottom lip puckered dramatically. “Pleeeease.”

“How about we play tomorrow?” Dean suggested.

“No! Now!”

Dean brought his free hand to his mouth, letting out a fake yawn. “I don’t know kid,” Dean mumbled. He brought his hands to his eyes rubbing at them, partially in act, partially in truth. He was absolutely exhausted, between work and anxiety, the sleepless nights were catching up on him. “I think i’m too tired to play.”

Jack didn’t respond, instead giving Dean one last pouty look, before turning to Cas. The child wrapped his arms around Cas’s legs, before burying his face into Cas’s thighs, not making another sound even as Cas picked him up.

“I’m going to put him to bed.” Cas said, which Dean nodded to. 

“I think that’s a good idea.”

After Cas had left the living room, Dean made his way to the couch, Lee’s eyes on him the whole time. He took a seat in the center of the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table. “Are you spending the night?” Dean asked Lee, bringing the bottle back to his lips. 

“I’ve actually got to get going, got plans with Bela.”

Dean let out a groan tilting his head back in an attempt to be as dramatic as possible, “Dude.” Dean cried, looking back to his friend, who only raised an eyebrow in question. “You’re with that bitch again?”

“One word: stripper.”

“Two words,” Dean pointed to his friend. “Douche bag.” 

Lee only gave the smallest shake of his head, bringing his own bottle of beer to his lips, before placing it on the coffee table, and standing. “That bitch stole my watch.” Dean continued.

“You got high, and threw it in the ocean.”

“No, It went missing,” Dean explained, “and the next day she was wearing it.”

Lee didn't reply, instead grabbing his jacket, and pulling it on. “She cheated on you,” Dean called as Lee made his way towards the hall. It wasn’t exactly an amazing argument, considering Lee already knew, and as far as Dean was concerned had probably cheated on her as well, though it was the only one he had, 

“Stripper!” Lee yelled back.

The smallest smile tugged at Dean’s lips as he took another sip of beer, able to hear the front door open, and then close. Did he really care about Lee’s relationship, no, Lee would jump through girls faster than cars, and it wasn’t like Dean himself had the best track record with relationships. He just had a particular annoyance for Bela, one he couldn’t quite explain. 

He spent another twenty minutes alone in the living room, finishing off his first bottle of beer, and then his second, and then his third, and forth. It wasn’t even close enough to get him tipsy though it did bring some relaxation to the tenseness that never seemed to leave his muscles, and by the time he’d started his fifth the exhaustion that weighed on him gave him no choice but to make his way to bed. 

As quiet as possible Dean made his way down the darkened hallway, and to his room, his hand just brushing across the door knob when the sound of another door opening came. 

His head turned at the sound, to the other side of the hallway, where Cas had stepped out of one of the bathrooms. “Hey,” Dean whispered, having to squint slightly to see the other through the dark.

“Hello,” Cas replied softly. 

For a moment neither continued, Dean only shifting slightly in spot, fingers tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m goin’ to bed,” Dean finally continued. “You can stay up if you want, I’ve got Netflix on all the TVs and the fridge has food, do whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” Cas replied. Even through the darkness, Dean could see the smallest smile across the other’s face. A smile he couldn’t help but return. “For everything.”

“Yah, of course.” Dean took the smallest step towards his bedroom, “night.” 

“Good night, Dean.” 

~

“Sir.”

The word fell, hesitant and fearful, though it only seemed to echo back against the coffin lid above him. A shaken breath parted his lips, the air that then filled his lungs cold and damp, heavy with the smell of dirt. 

From above, just through the cracks of the old wood he could see the rays of sunlight, slowly disappearing as the coffin he layed in was buried. 

“Sir.” He could barely hear his own voice over the hammering of his heart, beating faster with each passing second. His shaken breaths matching the pace, gasping for air, though never seeming to get enough.

He raised his hands, attempting to push the lid off, though the wood refused to budge. After a second attempt of pushing it off, he began banging his fist into the wood, his skin burning with each punch. 

The sound of his fists colliding with the wood rang through his head mixing with his hammering heart.

The sound of more dirt being thrown into the whole, and his hammering heart.

His gasps for breaths, and his hammering heart.

His hammering heart.

The tears that rolled down his face.

His hammering heart.

The pleads that fell from his lips, a mess of blurred words and sobs. 

The coffins walls that surrounded him seeming even closer than before. Almost collapsing in on him, taking any chance of breath away.

“Sir,” Dean pleaded, voice shattered and raw from begging. “Sir, please.”

He banged his fist harshly against the wood, small specks of damp dirt falling to his face. “Please,” Dean screamed, his fists once again colliding with the wood, though no matter how hard he hit it never seemed to budge.

For a moment he stopped, staring at the dark wood above, any light that had once fell through now covered. The sound of dirt being thrown above had disappeared, replaced by his own shallow breaths. 

Filling his lungs.

Then exiting.

“Sir,” Dean whispered, his voice echoing back to him. He raised his hands back to the lid, though as they were just an inch a way a low cracking noise came. “Sir, please.”

“Sir!”

“Sir!”

“Sir!”

“Sir!”

“Sir!”

“Sir!” 

The word continued to fall from his lips, over and over as if it was the only thing he’d been taught. Becoming more broken with each plea.

“Please,” Dean sobbed.

Another cracking noise came from above, stopping Dean’s heart. For a moment he didn’t move, eyes locked on the wood above, even if through the darkness he couldn’t see anything. 

Slowly he pressed his hands to the wood. Just as he felt the rough text, another crack came, and the wood snapped, Dean’s lips parting just quick enough to let out one last scream.

“DAD!”

Dean’s eyes flung open, arms out in an attempt to stop the dirt that should be suffocating him though instead he was met with nothing but air. His eyes still wide, looking at the darkened roof above. His lips were parted in a scream, heart hammering, hands frozen, while the rest of his body boiled. 

He didn’t think he could breathe, never mind move.

Each breath burning through his lungs, body trapped between fight or flight. His heart racing with fear, as if he was still in the coffin being buried alive. 

“Dean?”

His whole body shook as footsteps came his way. 

The fear bubbling in his throat.

Lungs burning for air. 

He could see Cas sit in front of him, though the panic made it impossible to focus. 

“It’s okay.” Dean shook his head, a shaken gasp parting his lips, one that he wasn’t sure whether was to breathe or cry. “Dean it was a nightmare you’re okay.” 

He hadn’t realized how bad his body was shaking until a steady hand was brought to his shoulder. The touch burned against his own though Dean still lent in. 

“You’re okay,” he felt the other’s arms wrap around him pulling Dean’s shaking body into a tight hug. Dean himself couldn't move, only squeezing his eyes shut, mouth still open gasping for breath. He wasn’t sure if the other’s touch made it better or worse, whether it was gentle, or harsh, keeping Dean alive, or searing his skin, with each slow stroke of his back.

“You’re okay.”

Dean shook his head, gasping for another breath. He almost cried, let the tears that burned at his vision fall, though instead he bit harshly on his bottom, digging his teeth into the soft skin. The pain that came only causing him to continue, to burn out the anxiety that controlled him. 

He didn’t know how long he sat in that positioned, head against Cas’s shoulder, the other’s arms tightly around him, the world crumbling around, though it wasn’t until his heart had slowed down that he finally moved. 

“I’m-” Dean finally whispered, taking a shaken breath. He lifted his head from Cas’s shoulder, his eyes meeting the other’s. “I’m fine.”

“Dean, Are you sure?”

He locked his jaw, giving a forced nod of his head. 

“Dean-”

“I’m fine.”

“Dean-”

“I said i’m fine!” Dean snapped.

This time Cas didn’t argue, only giving a small nod of his head, before he stood, beging to make his way out of Dean’s room, leaving Dean alone, in the dark. 

Alone with his thoughts.

With his anxiety.

With his nightmares.

With his fears.

With himself.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, stopping the other just as he had reached the door. “Could you- could you stay?”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y’all ever want to feel insecure, visit the Aston Martins website, cause that thing is weirdly gorgeous!!   
> Anyways, umm I finally updated! Yeah!   
> I hope you’re everyone’s having an amazing day, and had an amazing weekend!   
> Lots of love, paige


	46. Chapter forty five

Dean lent against the doorframe that led to his backyard, a beer in hand, watching as Cas sat at the pool edge, Jack in his lap, the child's giggles filling the silence. He’d come to talk to Cas, though he couldn’t bring himself to move once he saw the other playing with his son, both with smiles across their faces.

He wanted them to be happy forever, and though all he had to say was that Jack’s room was ready to be painted, it still would ruin the moment. Cas was never as happy around Dean as he was with Jack. There was always a distance. A sadness, that Dean couldn’t help but notice.

He wanted the other to feel comfortable, he wanted the other to be endlessly happy, though no matter his efforts it never seemed to happen. He couldn’t get the same smile from Cas as Jack could, he couldn’t get the wide grin that warmed his face, any sign of strain gone for a moment. 

A loud screech came from Jack as Cas tilted him backwards, letting the child lay flat in his arms, head dangling over the pool, almost touching the water. The screeches then became giggles, when Cas lifted him again, the child once again sitting in his lap. 

Dean couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as Cas repeated the action, Jack’s screeches just as loud as before, followed by more giggles.

Slowly Dean brought the bottle to his lips, taking a sip before he stepped outside walking to where the other sat. 

He took a seat at the edge of the pool, letting his own feet dip in the warm water. Now next to the other he could see Cas’s face, rested in a wide smile, as he once again tilted jack back, getting just as much of a reaction as he did every other time before that.

Jack didn’t seem to get bored easily.

Dean glanced to the other one last time before turning his head forward to the setting sun ahead of him, the cool temperature taking over, though still nothing like New York. That’s one thing Dean had really missed about LA, being able to leave without a full winter suit. The breeze that would come a comforting cool, allowing for warm mugs, and scarfs, some days still warm enough to swim in the ocean.

He brought the bottle back to his lips, though instead of the taste of cheap bear, he was met with just a few drops. “Jack’s rooms ready to be painted, wherever you are.” Dean said, finally letting his gaze go back to the other.

It felt wrong, like Dean shouldn’t be looking. Like his heart shouldn't be hammering. Like he shouldn’t want to lean in and close the little space between them, feel the other’s lips against his own, feel the other’s skin. 

Dean shouldn’t want it to go further, and not sex futher, but dates, and soft kisses, and holding hands. He shouldn’t want it, as much as he hated to agree with his brother, but Cas had just gotten out of a relationship. He shouldn’t want it.

But Dean wanted it so bad. 

“I’ll put Jack to bed, and then we can start,” Cas suggested. 

“Sounds good,” Dean slowly stood. “I'll meet you there.”

On his way to the guest room he grabbed a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

It had been four days since they’d arrived in LA. The first three Dean spent in the studio, finally on his first day off he decided it was time to make Jack an actual bedroom.

They’d spent the morning in Ikea, which both Cas and Jack had absolutely adored, followed by smaller shops, buying decorations, and paint. The evening was spent with Dean moving furniture and boxes, until the guest room Jack had been sleeping in was empty. 

Dean stepped into the room, placing down the two glasses and bottle of scotch, before he opened the paint can. It was bright yellow, much brighter than he would have chosen, or found bearable, but Jack had begged for it, and Dean had a hard time saying no to the kid. 

After pouring out the paint and grabbing a brush he turned on his phone's music, singing along as he dipped the brush in and began painting over his white walls. “Living easy, living free. Season ticket on a one-way ride. Asking nothing, leave me be. Taking everything in my stride.” Dean sang along, bobbing his head to the beat of the Highway to Hell.

The music played at a low volume, though in the empty room, it seemed to blare. Through the first verse and then the chorus, Dean singing along the whole time, until the second verse started anda he could hear Cas clear his throat. 

A grin spread across Dean’s face as he turned to the other, a small smile across Cas’s own face. His head was tilted to the side, the way he always did when he was confused or curious. It was cute.

He wished he could tell Cas that.

Dean brought the bottom of the paintbrush to just below his lips, the smile across Cas’s face only widening. “No stop signs, speed limit, nobody's gonna slow me down. Like a wheel, gonna spin it. Nobody's gonna mess me around.”

Dean did an awkward half shuffling half bouncing dance to Cas. He took the other’s hand in his own, pulling the other into the middle of the empty room, to dance with him. “Hey Satan, payin’ my dues.” When the other hadn't joined in on dancing Dean raised the hand that held Cas’s forcing him into an awkward spin, that ended up with Cas stepping on Dean’s toes. It didn't matter as the laugh that left Cas’s lips was music to Dean’s ears.

“Playing in a rocking band.” 

It was impossible to stop his smile, as Cas joined him in dancing, so wide it hurt his cheeks. “Hey mama, look at me.”

“I’m on my way to the promised land.”

“I’m on the highway to hell.” Dean sang along to the chorus, his hand staying firmly in Cas’s as they bounced around, a mix of singing, and laughs echoing through the room. He could feel the warmth of the other. The joy coursing through his body like any other. Just pure, simple happiness. 

It was sometime during the bridge when the dancing had stopped. A grin still plastered across Dean’s face,a smile across Cas’s. Their breath’s heavy, lungs burning, though Dean wouldn’t have it any other way,as his eyes stayed firmly on the other’s, less than a foot between them. 

So close Dean could see the blue of Cas’s eyes, every little speck of lighter shades, and darker shades. All overlapping to make his beautiful blue.

So close Dean could almost lean in and press his lips to the other, let his hands roam across the other’s skin, feel every curve of his body, trace of perfection and imperfection.

They were so close, yet Dean wished they were closer. 

For a moment he thought he could do it, lean in, though whatever confidence he had felt, was quickly gone as the song faded, leaving them in silence. Dean’s gaze quickly dropped from Cas’s eyes and to his lips. He couldn't kiss Cas. What was he thinking.

“Dean,” Cas whispered softly, his head tilted to the side. Maybe Dean could kiss him. “Is everything alright.”

“Uh, yah.” He glanced across the other's face, his lips, chapped, and parted, his nose, his eyes, ringed with exhaustion, from both Dean and Jack keeping him for the past few nights, his messy hair. Perfect and imperfect. Fuck, Dean would do anything for him. “There’s just something on your face.

A small frown grazed Cas’s lips, as he raised a hand to his face. “Where?”

Without hesitation Dean brought the paintbrush to the other’s face, swiping the paint covered bristles down Cas’s nose. 

“Dean,” Cas cried, Dean only laughing in response. Cas swiped his hand across his nose in an attempt to get the paint off though he ended up only spreading, making Dean laugh more. “I’m going to wash this, you can start painting.”

“Come on,” Dean called, as Cas turned away. He would have been worried though he had seen the smallest smile across Cas’s face, giving permission for his own smile to stay. “It was funny!”

Cas didn’t reply, instead walking out of the bedroom, leaving Dean alone, as Some Kind Of Monster began playing. 

Instead of returning to the far wall he’d been painting Dean went to the bottle of scotch, twisting off the cap, and pouring himself and Cas a glass. He grabbed his own glass, bringing it to his lips to take a sip, though just as the alcohol began burning down his throat, a low vibration got his attention. 

It was almost unhearable over the music, though that didn’t stop Dean’s heart from skipping a beat as his gaze went to Cas’s phone that had been left near Dean’s. At first he could only stare at the photo that lit the screen, a photo of Jack in a green basketball jersey, a wide smile across the child’s face as he raised the basketball in his hands, to show whoever held the camera. Then as his breath hitched in his throat, his gaze went to the name that was printed across the top of the screen.

Logan.

Dean could feel his heart stop, eyes staying firmly on the screen as the phone continued to buzz.

For one second.

Then another.

The once quiet buzzes now seeming louder than the music could ever be.

His gaze stayed there until he could hear Cas’s footsteps returning. He quickly flipped the other’s phone over, placing the glass of scotch down,a dn instead grabbing the paintbrush, before he rushed over to the wall, he’d started on, just making it as Cas returned. 

Dean didn’t look to the other as he painted, able to hear Cas strat on a different wall. He didn’t think he could, his heart hammering too hard, body tense, mind clouded with possibilities. They’d left New York about two weeks ago, Logan called sometime then.

Had Cas. 

For a moment they painted in silence. An relaxation that had once been there now tense, each shift of Dean’s muscles forced, each breath burning against his lungs. He could barely stand in the same room as the other, head spinning, the paint brush weightless in his grip. 

“Your phone, Dean finally mustered. “Someone was calling you.”

He turned his head when Cas didn’t reply, watching as Cas crouched to the ground, picking up his phone. His face stayed emotionless, not a shift in fear, in pain, in anything. His lips staying tightly together, eyes still on the screen “Who was it?”

Cas slowly stood, his gaze finally going from his phone to Dean, eyes staring with such intensity, Dean couldn’t help the unease in his stomach. “My sister,” Cas replied, there was no hesitation, no pause for even a second. The lie coming with ease. “I should probably take this.”

Dean could only force a nod, watching as the other left.

“Sister?” Dean whispered, his gaze still firmly on the now empty door. “Bullshit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda of important update.  
> First off sorry this took so long, it's been rough week.  
> second off, I'm starting school next week meaning I'm not going to have as much time to update, so I'm currently planning to update this book and my other one until we fall every Friday and Tuesday and one shots will be posted whenever. I'm going try doing this plan for about two weeks see how it goes, but yah!  
> Thanks for reading! I hope you all have a lovely Friday!


	47. Chapter forty six

“Then he lied to me,” Dean explained as he walked, one hand holding his phone to his ear, while his other was buried in his jacket pocket. He could hear a breath through the other side of the phone as Benny began to reply, though Dean quickly cut him off. “I don’t get it, why can’t he tell me?”

“Are you two together?”

“No,” the word came out immediately, laced with a bitterness Dean hoped Benny wouldn’t notice. “But the guys a douchebag.”

“Most exs are.”

“This guy’s especially douchebagish.” Dean explained, exaggerating his words in a way that he hoped the other would understand, without him having to outright say it. “Look man, If I could shoot him or Kayne, I’d shoot him, then beat him with the gun.”

“Brother, you gotta calm down.”

“No, I need to fuckin’ kill the guy.”

He could hear a laugh through the phone, though not even the smallest smile tugged at Dean’s lips. Instead he took a deep breath, his lungs filling with the chilled LA air. 

It was a nicer afternoon, the sky above a light grey, the air chilled despite no wind. It almost made walking down the busy streets enjoyable, almost. Even still Dean would have preferred Baby. The familiar leather against his grip, the slight rattling in the vent, the blaring of his music. It had been a week since the incident in Nebraska, and he hadn’t driven her since. No matter how much he wanted to, the idea terrified him, bringing a weight to his chest that made breathing almost impossible.

“He deserves it,” Dean mumbled. He could hear another laugh though the phone, only making Dean’s jaw clench. “Are you sure there isn't a chance you're jealous?”

“I’ll shove this phone up your ass.” 

Before Benny could reply a loud screeching came from Dean’s right. His gaze immediately turned to the busy streets, his heart picking up paze, as his gaze darted across the cars, though the only sign that anything had even happened was the loud balre of a horn. 

Despite that his heart didn’t calm down, the tires screeching seeming to echo through his head, getting louder with each repeat. Blaring through his ear drums, matching the racing pace of his heart. His hands flew to the sides of his, though it did nothing to stop the sound. The screeching seeming on permanent repeat no matter how hard he tugged.

His eyes squeezed shut, the fear rapidly bubbling in his chest, burning through his body.

The sound of tires screeching.

The low sounds of his gasped breaths.

He tugged harder at his hair, grinding his teeth together, in an attempt to gain control, though no matter what he tried it always seemed lifetimes away. The panic and sound spiraling around him for what seemed like hours, until all at once the sound stopped, his eyes still squeezed shut, body tense with adrenaline. 

He took a gasped breath, the sound blaring through the sudden silence, before his eyes fluttered open meeting a woman who stood in front of him. “Sir?” Dean didn’t respond instead glancing around the street. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen to the ground, though he now sat on the cement, the streets still busy, though people swerved to avoid him, giving quick glances as they passed. 

“Sir? Are you okay.”

Dean looked back to the woman, his gaze resting on her worried expression,as he tried to find his voice. “I’m fine,” he finally mustered.

His eyes dropped to his hands, his blood covering his fingernails. Another shaken breath filled his lungs, heart still hammering, as if insisting there was danger, a danger Dean couldn’t figure out. 

“Are you sure? Can I call someone for you?”

The women stepped forward and immediately Dean pushed himself from the ground, his head spinning slightly at the sound movement. “I said, I’m fine.”

The woman opened her mouth to reply though Dean didn’t give her a chance to speak, instead turning, pushing his way through the crowd. He didn’t look back, even once he was a block, away then two. Only knowing that he wanted as much distance between him and the streets as he could.

His heart hammering the whole time, as he hailed a cab, as he barely mustered out his andress, as he sat in the back watching the streets blur by. The ringing continued through his head. Constantly there as if reminding him how fucked up he was, because the random panic attacks didn‘t seem to be enough, the inability to breath, the tearing out of his own hair.

How much more fucked up did he need to be.  
How much more fucked up could he be. 

Even twenty minutes later when he stepped back into his house, his heart hadn’t calmened, and instead had blurred in with a numb feeling that rested in his chest. Somehow that burned worse than any anxiety he had felt. Made it harder to breath then any panic attack had before. 

“Cas,” Dean called as he walked through his kitchen, stopping once he found the other in the living room. Castiel was rested in the corner of the L shaped couch, phone in hand as Jack lent against his side, watching cartoons on the tv with half lidded eyes. 

“Dean,” Cas greeted. A small smile rested across his lips until he looked up, his expression immediately faltering as he met Dean’s gaze. “Are you alright?” 

“Yah, just a long morning.”

Cas’s concerned expression didn’t falter, between his eyebrows creasing as he lips stayed in a small frown. If it wasn’t for the numb feeling that clouded Dean’s mind he would taken a second to inspect how cute the other looked, though all he could focus on was the numbness, and the need for cocaine. The cravings had been bearable though at that moment the want had become a need.

Alcohol would have to do. 

Lot’s of alcohol.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m doin’ awesome,” Dean explained forcing a grin across his face, though from Cas’s expression he didn’t it was a convincing one. “I’m just going t’go to sit outside for a bit get some fresh air you know?”

Cas only gave a small nod in response.

Without another word, and ignoring Cas’s unfaltered concerned expression, he made his way to the back yard. First stopping at his billiard room, where he grabbed his spare guitar and a bottle of vodka, before taking a seat on one of the lounge chairs that surrounded his pool. 

Dean brought the bottle to his lips, the alcohol's smell burning against his nose, before it burned worse down his throat. A second swig quickly following, then a third, then a forth. He didn’t place the alcohol down until half the bottle had been drinken, and instead the numb feeling was replaced by a slight calm. The bottle once in his hand soon replaced by his guitar. 

Slowly Dean strumened his finger across the strings, playing the first chord of Nothing Else Matters, followed by the second. He didn’t sing as he played, only listening to slow melody, as it rang through his back yard. It did nothing to silence his thoughts, though for a moment the hammering of his heart was gone, or at least unnoticeable. 

Cocaine would make it completely unnoticeable. 

Cocaine would stable the crumbling mess that had become his life.

Cocaine was consistent, unlike his emotions. He never knew how he would react any more, what would send his anxiety spiralling, what nights he’d wake up screaming from nightmares, but cocaine. Cocaine he knew.

He knew the euphoria it would bring. The small pinch as the needle broke his skin. The dilating of his eyes, becoming almost nothing but black. He knew the after effect. The cravings. He knew the drug inside and out, and it knew him. It knew how to pull his strings, how to have him on his hands and knees begging.

Dean was close to begging. 

Despite his thoughts he continued to softly strum the guitar, keeping his gaze on the skyline even as the sound of his back door opening came. The sound was followed by soft footsteps, he knew belonged to Cas, the other alway walking with the grace of a cat, feet barely making a sound. 

He could feel Cas’s gaze burning against the side of his head, though Dean’s own dropped to his guitar. Watching his fingers as he strummened the final few chords.

“What song were you playing?”

“Nothing Else Matters.” Dean replied softly. It seems pathetic now, playing sad songs alone, though he couldn’t find the energy to hide it. “It’s by Metallica.”

“I know.” Dean finally looked up to the other raising an eyebrow in question. Cas’s gaze stayed on Dean, his lips resting in a small frown, the underneath of his eyes a light purple, from exhaustion. He wasn’t getting enough sleep, and Dean knew that no matter what Cas said, it was almost impossible between Dean’s nightmares, and Jack’s tears. “I knew you liked the band.”

The smallest smile tugged at Dean’s lips. “So you listened to them?’

“Yes,” Dean’s gaze stayed locked on Cas's, his blue eyes rested in a gentle expression, so different from his usual intense stare, or hsi concerned one from earlier. His posture more relaxed. Eyes holding something that he couldn’t quite explain. “I enjoy Fade to Black.”

“That one’s sad as hell.” 

Cas tilted his head, “which one’s your favourite then?”

“Probably Some Kind of Monster,” Dean paused for a moment, lips parted. He doubted Cas would know the meaning of the song though there was something about it that left him feeling bare, exposed, weak. “Or master of puppets.”

“I haven’t heard that one.”

“I’ll show you sometime.”

The smallest smile spread across Cas’s lips, sending Dean heart in a flutter. “I would like that very much.” 

Dean’s own smile stayed rested on his lips as he continued to stare at the other. A bubble forming in his stomach, growing with each passing second, light and kind. God he could stare at the other forever. Inspect every shade of blue in his eyes, and every crease across his skin. Everything. He would stare until he could paint the other by memory, then continue to stare for the rest of eternity. 

They were so close shoulders touching, it wouldn’t take long for Dean to lean in, let his lips brush across the other’s. His hand trace the other fingers, outline his jawline, feel his skin against Dean’s.

He could kiss the other.

He shouldn’t.

He could stare forever.

He shouldn’t 

He wanted to be with the other.

He shouldn't.

Dean’s gaze finally dropped, back to the guitar's body. He watched his thumb run along the bottom string, the metals feel almost unnoticeable to his calloused fingers. 

He could still feel the other’s gaze on him, though his own gaze stayed down, even as he herd Cas clear his throat, the other shifting in spot slightly. “Dean,” he began slowly, his voice it’s usual monotone, though uncertainty laced it, mixed with the slightest bit of something else. Worry? Fear? Maybe it was Dean’s head.

“I was considering-” Cas paused. 

When the other didn’t continue Dean looked back to him, raising an eyebrow in question. “You were considering what?” Dean asked though that only seemed to make Cas stiffen, barely noticeable though definitely by a bit. His posture a bit straighter, his gaze darting down Dean’s body before looking back to his eyes. 

“I was considering possibly looking into job offerings.”

A small smile spread across Dean’s face, though still Cas stayed stiff. “That sounds awesome.” 

“Are sure.”

“Yah,” the smile stayed rested on his face, hoping it someway to calm the other, though it didn’t seem to work. “I think you should do it.” 

Cas pressed his lips in a tight line, eyes darting across Dean’s face, Dean’s own breath hitched in his throat.

For a moment he considered reaching out to the other. Resting a hand on his shoulder, or pulling him into a hug, though for some reason he didn’t think that would help.

“Cas,” Dean began, trying to make his voice as reassuring as possible. “I really think you should.”

“You do.”

It’s only what he’d been saying for the past few minutes, though Dean kept the sarcastic comments to himself. He let smile once again tug at the corner of his lips, his eye staying locked on the others. “I do.”

“Thank you,” Cas barely whispered, a small smile tugging at his own lips.

God, how Dean wanted to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this.   
> I cried.   
> I hated it.  
> I edited it.   
> I still hate it!   
> But you know I hate everything I write lately so this chapter is just continuing the pattern!   
> Anyways!  
> WOW! This took me forever to post! I am so sorry, and I’m also so sorry to say but this probably going to be how it is until at least November 16th (when I finish chem 12)   
> Pretty much my life has been consumed by school, work, and homework, so writings has kinda (sadly) been pushed aside! But I’m hoping to have maybe a bit more time now that my first week of school is finished (we’ll see though)   
> And yah... I have a oneshot have finished which hopefully be posted soon and just yah...   
> sorry I’m pretty exhausted!   
> I hope y’all are going good!   
> Lots of love!


	48. Chapter forty seven

“Sam?” 

The word fell from Dean’s lips, he was sure of it, though still through the hammering of his heart he couldn’t hear. Through the blaring wind that ruffled his hair. Everything spun around him, the crowd that held him back, the fear, the railing of the bridge that Dean couldn’t reach, the fear, the back of his brother’s head, the fear. 

He hadn't seen the other’s face, he could barely see from the night sky above, though he knew it was Sam.

At the edge of the bridge.

About to jump. 

“Sam,” Dean screamed again, not carrying to hide the fear in his voice. He needed to get to his brother. Dean attempted to push through the crowd that held him back though no matter how much he pushed, no matter how many times he screamed and swore, he couldn’t seem to make more than a step closer. 

Sam was going to die. 

A gasped breath filled Dean’s lungs, raised arms frantically trying to push through the crowd.

Sam was going to die. 

Sam was going to die. 

“Sam,” Dean screamed. He wasn’t sure if he was sobbing, his body alive with adrenaline numbing everything out. Coursing through his veins, ringing through ears, taking away whatever air had once filled his lungs. “Sam!”

“Sammy!”

Dean stumbled forward, the edge of the bridge suddenly right in front of him. The rushing water, a hundred, two hundred, maybe three hundred feet below him. The wind pushing against his body, threatening to send him over. 

He wanted to fall over. 

Would it be peaceful, falling, feeling the wind against his body. Dying. 

Would he have the courage to take the last step off the edge. Let his hands drop from the railing he held. 

One step.

Dean looked back, though no one was there. 

He was alone, accompanied by nothing but the wind and moon. 

Alone.

Alone, to die.

One step.

Dean’s hands slowly dropped from the railing, every inch of his body screaming for him to step away, move back to safety. When had he even gotten to the edge, when had he decided to jump. It didn’t matter. He wanted to. He was going to. 

Alone.

No one to stop him.

A breath parted Dean’s lips, inaudible over still blaring wind. His gaze dropped to the water, and without a second thought, he jumped. 

A scream ripped through his lungs as Dean jolted awake, eyes wide, meeting the dark room in front of him. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, waking up screaming from nightmares, it had been every night though that never made it easier; his heart always beat, racing faster than Dean had ever thought possible, his head spinning, unsure what exactly was reality and what his mind had created. 

“Dean.” His gaze didn't move from a head of him, Cas’s words only blurring with the ringing, with the hammering, with his own gasped breaths. 

Mind stuck repeating the way the wind had pushed against his body as Dean free fell from the bridge. More importantly Sam. Sam. His brother. His brother that he had been on the verge of not saving, of being helplessly held back, incapable of even moving.

Sam.

“Dean, you’re okay.”

Dean gasped for another breath, attempting to raise his hands to his head, though the moment he had begun raising them something forced them back to his lap. Cas? It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter when he couldn’t breath. It didn’t matter when his whole body was alive with adrenaline threatening to kill him. He was going to die. He was going to die. Or it least felt like it. 

Another gasped breath.

Another racing of his heart. 

Another moment of panic.

When would it end. Never, it would be the next night, and the next, god it wasn’t going to end. He was going to die. 

“Dean.”

“Breathe.”

He took another gasped breath, not even trying to respond, instead forcing himself to listen to Cas’s voice as the other tried to calm him. One breath filling his lungs, then another, then his racing heart, then a forced breath.

How long did Dean sit there, gasping, dying, five minutes, ten. Either way even when his breathing had calmed, hsi heart continued to hammer, the adrenaline coursing through his body, unsure whether to fight or freeze, from what Dean hadn’t figured it out. 

“I’m-” He took a deep breath, “I’m fine.”

Dean finally looked to his left, where Castiel sat, the other’s features barely visible through the dark night, his tousled hair, his worried eyes, his lips pressed in a tight line. Dean wasn’t exactly how they had ended up deciding to share a bed, it was either the second or third night, when Dean had woken up screaming twice in one night. It had made sense, Cas was spending half the night with Dean anyways. 

“Dean-”

“I’m fine,” Dean whispered, unable to find the energy to speak with any insitesty. 

Cas didn’t respond, his eyes staying locked on Dean’s. He seemed unconceived not that Dean was shocked, he hadn’t been that convincing, he hadn’t even tried to be that concing. Dean looked back, Cas staring with his usual intensity until the distant sound of crying broke the silent room. 

Jack. 

Cas’s head immediately turned to the door, then back to Dean, the uncertainty clear across his features. 

“Go check on him,” Dean said, when Cas hadn’t moved, not even a shift towards the edge of the bed. “I’m fine.”

Cas’s lips parted, for a moment not responding. “Dean,” he began. “Are you sure-”

“Go check on him, he needs you.”

“Dean-”

“Cas i’ll be fine.”

That was all Cas needed before he turned away without another argument, getting out of the bed and making his way out of the room. 

It wasn't until Dean was sure Css was gone that he stood from the bed grabbing his leather jacket from where he’d thrown it on the floor. He pulled it across his body, mind still swirling as he stumbled out of his bedroom. Heart hammering as he made his way down the hall, adrenaline racing as he stopped into the kitchen where he grabbed the impala’s keys.

Lee would have something.

Any amount.

Sorting.

Injecting Dean didn’t give a fuck.

He needed something, anything to stop the way his anxiety raced, the thoughts of Sam at the edge of the bridge, the thoughts of himself, the thoughts of how right it had been. He needed something to numb it out.

He needed to be high.

Or to die. 

He needed to feel the euphoria, the consistency in his life. He’d be okay, after one dose, maybe two, maybe three, maybe he’d see how many it would take to have a heart attack. Maybe he’d keep going after that, how much could he snort, how much could he inject, before his body simply gave out.

How much would he have to take to stop the fear.

Dean pushed the font door open. What should have been cold air felt like nothing against his boiling cheeks. 

One step forwards. The another, the another. 

Was he even breathing, Dean wasn’t sure. All he could feel was the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the hammering of his heart, the cravings, bursting across his tongue. He could taste it, feel it across his spine, imagine the way his eyes would dilate, the calming relief that would wash over. He needed it.

Another step, his grip tightening around the keys. He’d drive through any panic attack, any fucked up flash back his mind brought him. He’d drive until he’d reach Lee’s, why had he even gotten clean, what good did it do, he had been better off before. Why had ge gotten celan?

Sam?

His brother was in New York, he’d never know.

His health?

Fuck that, he was better off dead.

Cas.

Cas.

Dean stopped, clenching his teeth. He turned his gaze from the direction of Baby and to his house, only illuminated by the moon's light.

Cas would be fine alone for one night. 

Dean’s grip tightened around the keys, the grooves grinding into his skin. Cas would be fine, but what if he wasn't, anything could happen if Dean were to leave, or die, maybe he’d be better off dying. His gaze darted back to the car, grip tightening even further around the key, the grooves burning as they broke skin. Fuck, fuck.

His breathing became forced, as a lump formed in his throat.

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Dean screamned, voice echoing through the silent night.

With his heart hammering against his chest Dean raised his arm, and with as much force as he could muster threw the car keys. 

It didn’t stop the cravings, the want for the drug, though it gave him no option. No keys, no driving. Instead he turned away, walking back into his unlit house, something else would have to do.

Alcohol. 

Dean walked through the kitchen, turning down a small and into his billiard room, set up similar to Lee’s. A pool table stood in the center, the back wall covered with expensive alcohol, while a bar and stools were set up below it. The side walls covered in records, some his own, some from his favorite bands. 

He walked through the room, stopping once he reached the bar.

Alcohol would have to do. Alcohol would have to numb the anxiety, numb the cravings, numb every frantic emotion that spiralled through his head. 

Dean grabbed the first bottle he could, an expensive vodka, not carrying to grab a shot glass and instead bringing the bottle to his lips. The first swig burned down his throat, followed by a second, then a third, then a forth, then a fifth then a second bottle, then a third and by the forth he passed out.

~~~

Dean jolted awake to the sound of Ramble On blaring through the room, pounding through his aching head. With his eyes barely opened he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, head pounding further as the screen lit with Crowley's name.

Fuck, could he not have called yestrday, or ina few hours, allow Dean some time to sober up. 

Despite his twisting stomach, threatening to throw up the alcohol he’s drunk, Dean slid accept to call and brought the phone to his ear. “What the fuck do you wnat,” Dean spat, not carring to hide his annoyance, he was exhausted, and hungover. Very hungover, to fuckin’ hungover. 

“Dean,” Crowly greeted, voice raised and annoying, only making Dean’s head spin. “Lovely to hear you’re as pleasant as always.”

“I said, what the fuck do you want.” 

“Am I not allowed to check on my favorite client?” 

“No.” Keeping one hand on his phone he used his other to grab the nearest bottle of scotch, twisting the lid off before he grabbed a glass from below the bar he still sat at. Each movement sent his head spinning, mind seeming unable to catch up with each motion. His eyes burning despite the billiard room sitting in darkness.

He raised the bottle, beginning to pour himself a glass, when he heard Crowley begin speaking again. “I was curious how yesterday treated you.” A frown tugged at Dean’s lips as he slowly placed the bottle down. 

“Fine?”

“No drugs?”

“No? Why?”

“Cause as far as I’m concerned.” There was a pause, only a bit of shuffling heard through the line. “Your yesterday break down is the tabloids new favourite topic.”

Dean’s lips parted unsure exactly how to reply, mind to numb to think. God he could use an Advil. “They have better things to talk about.” Dean finally grabbed.

With his free hand he grabbed the glass of scotch, bringing the cup to his lisp, for a small sip. He could barely taste the burn, the bitterness that should be there, his mouth only filled with a dull taste. 

“I’m afraid they don’t,” Dean could almost see how the other would sit, lent back in his office chair, lips pursed, an exhausted expression across his face. The kind he always seemed to wear around Dean. “Seventeen’s headline says ‘Dean Winchester back in LA, and back on drugs?’ Thriller suggests ‘Fans aren’t shocked at Dean Winchester’s relapse.’ Wishbone says ‘Everything you need to know about Dean Winchester, his drug addiction and his newest boyfriend.’ Elite daily says-”

“Alright,” Dean snapped, “I get it, I’m a drug addict even if I’m not on fuckin’ drugs.”

He wasn’t sure if there was a bitterness to his voice, or an anger. He should have been mad, furious at the tabloids for calling hsi panic attack drug trip, though all he could find was exhaustion. Every inch of his body aching from the sleepless nights, his mind still foggy from the alcohol, aware that he existed though not seeming ready to accept it, or willing to function enough to do something about it.

Despite his hangover Dean brought the glass back to his lips, taking a small sip of the alcohol, followed by a second, then a longer one, then a third. 

“It does seem to be that way,” Dean took another sip of scotch. “We’re having a meeting with Zachaira tomorrow morning.”

“Fuck. Can’t we just let it blow over?”

“We’re having a meeting with Zachaira tomorrow morning,” Crowley repeated, in a tone Dean recognized all too well. Slow and threatening, offering for Dean to fight though knowing no matter what Dena said, he’d lose. “I expect you to be there on time, understood?”

“Ey ey Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday everyone!!   
> I just wanted to say thank you so much for continuing to read this, and comment, and vote, I’ve gotten pretty bad at replying to them but it does really mean so much! I can’t even begin to explain how much it means to me and how much I appreciate it! So thank you, endlessly!   
> I hope you all have an amazing day! And a fantastic week!   
> Lots of love!


	49. Chapter forty eight

The moment Dean heard Crowley’s line go dead he placed his phone back onto the bar counter, eyes squeezing closed, as if that would shut out the world for a few more minutes. He brought his hands to his head, rubbing them across his face as he tried to process the past few hours, or even minutes, though through his hangover it seemed almost impossible.

He could clearly remember his panic attack on the side of the street that had happened yesterday, all because of the sound of screeching tires.

He remembered falling asleep, heart still slightly faster than normal, then the nightmares that had followed. 

Sam at the edge of the bridge.

Himself at the edge. 

Then almost cocaine, and instead drinking. Lot’s of drinking. 

He ran his hand through his hair, roughling the strands as if that would bring some kind of ease to the pain that seemed engraved in every inch of his skin. 

Shit.

That’s what he felt like; complete and utter shit.

Crowley’s call was still clear in his foggy mind, the press thought he was back on drugs. He wished he was back on drugs, wished he could feel the stability that cocaine brought. The euphoria that would cloud his mind. The way, that when the shitty feeling came as reality fell back into place, he could just take another dose.

Fuck he wished he was high.

Just one dose, nothing more.

One reminder of what it felt like. 

Finally his eyes fluttered open, and Dean slowly stood from the bar stool he had passed out in, his feet staggering slightly. He could feel his legs shake, weak under his weight, threatening to give out as he made his way through the dark billiard room, and into the lit hallway. The lights burning against his vision, sending his stomach twisting.

He took a step up the staircase, his stomach only worsening with each step he took. With each slow drawn out movement. His hands swinging at his sides, his stomach twisting. The blinking of his eyes, his stomach twisting. A step forward, his stomach twisting, and then the sudden burning of vomit coming up his throat.  
“Sh-,” Dean barely gasped before a hand was at his mouth, footsteps no longer quiet, but heavy as he ran through the second floor of his house, and into the bathroom. He didn’t care to close the door, instead falling in front of the toilet, barely getting a chance to breathe before the vomit was coming up. 

He could taste it against his throat, burning through and his nose, as he threw up the alcohol. Eyes squeezed shut with each retched noise that fell from his lips.

He could barely hear it over the hammering of his own heart.

The taste burning. 

The exhaustion tearing at his skin.

Throwing up, then for a moment heavy breaths, before he was once again throwing up. His hands stayed firmly to the sides of the toilet, grip so hard his hands began to ache, even as he no longer threw up.

Instead Dean kept his head hung down, eyes still shut, heart still hammering. Part of him wondered what would happen if he never moved.

He’d die. He knew that much, though Dean couldn’t seem to find the problem in that. 

Dead was easier. Dead didn’t have withdrawal, it didn’t have nightmares, or annoying press. Dead was almost as consistent as cocaine.

At least dead he’d maybe get a few seconds of sleep. 

“Bean?”

Dean jolted back from the toilet, eyes snapping open to meet Jack who stood at the other end of the bathroom, one arm wrapped around a stuffed bear. “Hey Kid,” Dean hummed, forcing a smile across his face despite his pounding headache.

A smile spread across Jack’s face. What every concern had been there long gone as he ran acords the bathroom, giving Dean only seconds to get ready before he was launching himself into Dean’s arms. 

Dean laughed as the child looked up, his eyes wide, and lips puckered out. “Did you have a good sleep?” Dean asked.

Instead of responding Jack scrunched his face. “Ew,” The child whined, raising a hand, and grabbing his nose in a small fist.

“What?”

“You smell.”

“Me?” Dean asked in a dramatic voice. Jack nodded his head, though from under his hand Dean could see the child grin. “I think it’s you.”

Jack giggled. His hands fell from his face, and instead he wrapped both his arms around Dean’s neck, burying his face into Dean’s shoulder. “No!”

“No?” Dean hummened. “You sure?” 

Jack didn’t reply, only burying his face further into the crook of Dean’s neck. He felt so small in Dean’s arms, so innocent, so contradictory to the headache that pounded behind his head. Stomach twisting, threatening to throw up whatever he had left to . He felt Jack shift slightly, before the child lifted his head. “I’m hungwy.”

Dean smiled, “what do you want?”

“Food!”

“What kind of food?”

“Yummy food!!”

Dean laughed, “Yummy food sounds awesome.” He lifted Jack from his lap, instead placing the child so he sat next to Dean. “How about you head to the kitchen, and I’ll meet you there?” 

“Yah!” Jack cried. 

It wasn’t until Jack had ran out of the room that Dean stood, stomach taking a dramatic drop at the sudden movement. His eyes immediately squeezed shut, a hand raised to his mouth where it stayed for a moment. Then another. Then another.

Air barely leaving his lungs, hitched in the back of his throat as he waited for the burning sensation to come back up, though when it never did his eyes fluttered back open. 

He wasn’t fine, he was far from fine, but he wasn’t going to throw up, and at that moment that was enough. 

Dean flushed the toilet, then washed his face with tap water, and dry swallowed a painkiller, before he made his way back through his house and to the kitchen. His head spinning the whole time, pain throbbing behind his eyes, legs shaking under his weight, the painkiller couldn’t kick in fast enough.  
“‘Kay,” Dean mumbled as he walked to the kitchen counters, pulling open the first cupboard that was filled with new, mostly unopened boxes of cereal.”Do ya want Lucky Charms?” Dean asked, glancing over his shoulder to the kitchen island where Jack was sat.

“I want yummy food!” The child cried, Dean wincing at the loud noise.

“Alright,” he mumbled, “how ‘bout Froot Loops?”

“Yummy food!”

Dean shut the cabinet before moving onto the next, sorting through them as he looked for something easy to make.

“Oatmeal?”

“Yummy food!”

“Eggs?”

“Yummy food!”

Dean let out a groan, rubbing his hands down his face. He turned back to Jack, who was still at one the island stools, a cheeky grin spread across his face, strands of blond hair falling in his eyes.

“How ‘bout,” Dean began, leaning back against the counter, hands in his jeans pockets. “We go out and grab somethin’?”

“Yah!” He laughed as Jack scrambled off the chair, running, still in his pajamas, to the front door where his boots had been left. Dean followed close behind to pull on his own boots. 

Once both had their boots on and Dean had pulled a winter coat over Jack’s thin pyjama top they stepped out of the house, the early morning air burning against Dean’s cheeks. With one hand holding Jack’s he used his other to pull his leather jacket closed, blocking out the small gusts of wind that were laced with the usual January chill. 

“What do you think your dad would want?” Dean asked as they began walking down his driveway. He looked down to Jack, who had his head down watching his feet as he attempted to step over a stick or imperfection in the cement. “Jack?”

The child looked up this time, a wide smile spread across his face. “Yummy food!”

Dean sighed, he should have seen that coming.  
As they turned off his driveway and onto the sidewalk Jack stopped walking instead crouching to the ground, one hand still gripping Dean’s forcing him to stop as well. “Look,” Jack barely whispered, using his other hand to point at a small rock in the grass.

“Wow, that’s a pretty awesome rock,” Dean said, looking from the rock Jack continued to stare at and to the child. “Grab it so we ca-” 

“Dean!”

He looked up at the sound of his name, a smile immediately spreading across his face as he saw his neighbour walking towards them. 

“Mrs. Butters” Dean greeted as the older woman reached them, her own face spread in a smile, corners of her eyes crinkling.

“It’s been so long,” She greeted in her usual higher voice, the kind Dean imagined any perfect grandmother would have. Her whole persona suited it, the long coats she’d often wear, matched with a hat over her curled hair, a smile always rested across her bright red lips. Her pie, fuck Dean loved her pie. “When did you get back?”

She ran her gloved hands along her gardening apron, before without hesitation raised her arms and pulled Dean into a tight hug. 

“‘Bout two weeks ago,” Dean replied. Once he pulled away, he took Jack’s hand back in his own. “I’ve been busy at the studio.”

She gave a small nod of her head, her face still wrinkled in a cherry smile. “And who’s this little guy?” She asked looking down to Jack. 

“Jack, he’s my roommate's kids.” Dean replied. He looked down to the child, who was looking back up with wide eyes. Jack had stepped closer to Dean, his grip around Dean’s hand tightening. 

The was so fearful, so uncertain that Dean couldn't help the tug at his heart. He gave the child’s hand a small squeeze before looking back up to Mrs. Butters. “We were just going to grab some breakfast.” 

“And you’re walking? That’s much too far for such small legs.” Mrs. Butters hummed, she looked back to Dean, hands placed on her hips, with an eyebrow raised. “I made cinnamon buns this morning if you'd’ rather that.”

“Fuck yah,” Dean cried, though immeditaly the womans face dropped into a scowl.

“I mean yes, please.” 

The woman's stern look didn’t drop, though despite that she turned away, walking back to her house, Dean following behind, JAck in tow. 

“That roommate of yours,” Mrs. Butters said as Dean followed her into her house. The moment he stepped in his gaze no longer rested on her back and instead darted across the interior design. It was the way she always had it, incredibly 80s with older furniture, and wallpaper covered in black and white photos. “Is he like those other friends of yours.”

“What the hel-cks wrong with my friends?”

Mrs. Butters looked back to Dean lips pursed and an eyebrow raised. Despite the look Dean couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips. “I think they're bad influences.” She said as they walked into the kitchen, going immediately to the fridge, while Dean instead lent against the counter.

Jack no longer held his hand and instead wandered to the fridge, studying the magnets that covered the sides with wide eyes, and a slightly tilted head. It was cute, and incredibly Cas, Dean's own gaze not leaving the childs even with dull throb that still sat behind his eyes, worse under the kitchens bright lights. 

“You think I do bad things?” Dean asked as the other closed the fridge, bringing a tray of cinnamon buns to the counter, though he continued to watch Jack. The child having raised one of his tiny fists, and grabbing a magnet. “I’m an angel.”

“Besides,” Dean continued, finally looking back to the woman, who’d begun filling a separate tupperware with cinnamon buns. “You can’t act like you’re all high and mighty, I told you to keep your cats off my lawn.” 

“My cats are never in your lawn.” 

“Tell that to the cat shit I find everywhere.” 

Mrs. Butters looked up with an expression that was nothing short of murders, Dean only grinning back. “Someone’s ought to wash your mouth out.” 

Before Dean could reply, he was being interrupted by the sudden sound of small foot steps running, his gaze immediately going to Jack who ran over, a glass ball in hand. “Bean! the child cried. When Jack had stopped in front of him, and raised his hands, Dean got a better look at the small Winnie the Pooh snow globe Jack had found. “Look!”

Jack shook his hands yellow glitter immediately spiralling through the snow globes water.

Jack’s own face was lit by a wide grin, eyes locked on the object and yellow glitter, even as Dean crouched. 

“Shit kid,” Dean grinned, though his gaze stayed on the child, heart light. It was impossible not to be happy around the child, and the aurora of joy that seemed to surround him. “That’s awesome.”

Jack gave the snow globe another harsh shake, his gaze looking up. “Wow,” Dean said, he kept his mouth open in a dramatized shock, something that earned him a fit of giggles from Jack. 

As Jack began to shake the object for a third time Dean slowly stood, leaning against the counter, “Can you put it back now?”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Butters said, before Jack could reply. Dean looked away from Jack and to the women. “If he likes it so much, he can keep it.” 

“You sure?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Butter replied, she handed him the tupperware. “Now go home, and get some sleep, you’re looking awful.”

“Wow, it was great seeing you too,” Dean mumbled earning a harsh glare from the other, though just as soon as it had come it was gone, and Mrs. Butters was pulling him in for one last hug. 

After leaving the less than a minute walk back to Dean’s house, which was right next door, somehow took them at least ten. With Jack constantly stopping to show Dean how the snow globe worked. Then when Jack had gotten bored of that he stopped at every rock, or stick that was interesting enough, which happened to be all of them. 

By the time they’d pushed open the front door, and stepped back into Dean’s warm home, his stomach was growling, head still muffled though the painkiller had at least lessened the pain. 

“I fuckin hate rocks,” Dean mumbled as he let the front door close behind him. He crouched down unlacing his own boots, and pulling them off. 

When he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, Dean looked up, a grin immediately spreading across his face as Cas appeared in the doorway. 

“Hey,” Dean greeted. 

He stood back up properly as Cas walked towards him though the other didn’t reply. Instead Cas walked straight to Jack crouching in front of the child. 

“When’d you wake up?” 

Once again no reply, Dean standing awkwardly to the side watching as Cas, ran his hand along Jack’s hair. He whispered something to Jack that Dean couldn’t quite hear, Jack only giving a nod in response, the child’s eyes once again locked on the snow globe. 

Finally Cas stood, looking back to Dean, with the same wide eyed expression. “Where were you?” He asked. 

“Gettin’ breakfast” Dean replied. He placed the tupperware onto the counter, before pulling open the fridge, grabbing the first bottle of beer he could reach. As he closed the fridge the room stood in silence, a stiff one that left Dean tense. The silence continuing as he opened the bottle, and he took his first drink. 

When his gaze finally went back to the other, Cas had already been staring. His features were sat with no attempt to hide how he was feeling, terrified. His eyes wide, almost hazy looking, lips pressed in a tight line, jaw locked. Completely and utterly, terrified. 

“You left,” Cas barely whispered.

“To get breakfast.”

‘With Jack.”

“Yah.” Dean glanced from Cas to Jack, who no longer played with his snowglobe but now looked up between him and Cas

The stiff atmosphere still hung. Thick, and suffocating. Seeming to pull the air further out of Dean’s lungs with each second that Cas stared at him. 

Cas’s lips parted, though he didn’t speak immediately. “I had woken-” Cas began, voice hesitant, seeming not sure what to say, or maybe not wanting to admit what he wanted to say. His eyes never leaving Dean’s, Dean’s own gaze staring back. “You- Why.”

“The kid was up, and wanted to come.” Dean replied, he brought the bottle back to his lips, taking a quick sip. He expected a nod from Cas, even a small smile in understanding, though none of that came, and all at once, his eyes still burning against the other’s hazy ones, he came to the realization. “Why don’t you trust me?”

“Dean, of course I trust you.” 

Dean clenched his jaw, grip tightening around his bottle. “Bullshit,” He spat

“Why would you think that.” Cas replied voice not only the same anger or energy as Dean’s own, though there was something dangerous about his low tone. Something that made Dean’s blood boil.

Dean’s gaze dropped for a second, going from Cas to Jack as the child shifted behind Cas’s legs. Though his gaze quickly went back to Cas. 

“You won’t leave me alone with him for five minutes,” Dean replied, in the harsh voice. The other tensed slightly, posture stiff, chin tilted up, though other then he didn’t respond. “Does that seem like fuckin’ trust to you?” 

“I leave-“

“No you don’t.” Dean snapped. His voice seemed to hang in the now silent kitchen, followed by his own shaken breath, then much lower voice. “I’m not goin’ to hurt him.”

Cas didn’t move, expression now emotionless, blank, though still there was an unease to his eyes. “I know.”

“Then why can’t you fuckin realize that, why can’t you-“ Dean’s voice faltered. What did he want to say, trust me, explain to me. “-Fuckin move on.”

Cas’s eyes narrowed “Cause you’re one to talk about moving on.” The other snapped.

“What the hell's that supposed to mean?” 

While Dean’s gaze stayed on the other, Cas’s darted to the bottle in Dean’s hand, before once again looking back. “I read the articles last night,” Cas said, “they think you’re using again.”

Dean’s first clenched at his side, teeth grinding. He waited for the other to reply though when Cas didn’t, Dean unclenched his jaw. “And you think they’re right,” Dean barely whispered, Cas not replying. “You think i’m a drug addict?”

Once again Cas didn’t reply.

Dean slammed the bottle of beer onto the island counter, pretending not to notice the way Cas flinched back. If he did he didnt think he could be mad any longer. 

Dean shoved his hands into his jacket pockets checking for his phone as he walked to the front door, and pulled on his boots. For a moment, with his hand on the door knob, he didn’t move, only staring at the wood door .

A low breath parting his lips.

His blood boiling.

Grip tight against the handle.

Cas’s hazy eyes still burning in his mind. 

Dean pulled the door open, his head turning back to the other, who hadn’t moved from where he stood. One hand on Jack's shoulder, the child still standing behind his legs. 

“Fuck you,” Dean spat before he stepped outside slamming the door shut behind him.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so sorry this took me so long to publish! I've been really busy with school, and also whenever I wrote this chapter it just never seemed right, even now, I kinda completely hate it, like it feels kinda rushed, and choppy to me but I don't know what else to do, and I kinda want to move on to the next chapter. So yah!! Umm I hope it isn't as bad as I think it is, and yah! I also hope you guys are having an amazing day!  
> lots of love, Paige
> 
> Tumblr- 221Castiel


	50. Chapter forty nine

Hot, rough, and emotionless, filled with shameless moans and barely audible please. Hands bruising skin, gasped breaths, lips sucking hickeys into skin as nails scarred backs, that’s how it always was with Lee. 

Meaningless. 

Done when they were higher than life itself, or Dean needed to feel used. Lee knew him, he knew his limits, or lack of them, what he liked, what made him tick, it was easier than finding someone at a bar that would only be able to half satisfy. 

Someone who’d be able to cause only half the pain Dean wanted- needed to feel. 

Lee was reliable, and that’s why after him and Cas’s fight, he spent the next hour walking to his friends house. Where he drank, played a few rounds of pool, drank more, then had his chest shoved onto the pool table, then once again against a mattress. 

As he laid in Lee’s bed his whole body ached, head still throbbing from his hangover, every muscle laced with pain, scarred with what felt like a permanent burning. He could hear Lee shifting to his left, the other’s heavy breathing matching his own, then the sound of the bed squeaking as Lee stood.

“You good?” Lee asked, tone light and teasing. 

Dean gave a small nod, lips parted hesitating for a second before he spoke, “just hungover.”

“You look it.” 

His eyes fluttered open, meeting the white ceiling above, the light falling from the windows burning against his vision. Slowly Dean sat up, each muscle, specifically everything below his waist, throbbing in pain, something that only worsened as he shifted, swinging his legs over the edge 

“You know,” Dean said as he looked over his shoulder to Lee. The other was pulling his pants on, chest still bare, his tanned skin now scarred with nail marks along his chest and shoulders. Dean didn’t need to see his back to know it would be much worse. “You aren’t lookin’ too hot either.”

Lee raised his middle finger, a smile tugging across Dean’s lips as he turned back. 

“Do you have birthday plans yet?” Lee asked as Dean grabbed his phone from the bedside table, the screen immediately lighting with a text from Crowley, ‘On my way.’ 

“No,” Dean mumbled. His finger’s hesitated over the screen for a second, the bright light pounding behind his eyes, before typing a quick response.

‘At Lees.’

“Good,” Lee continued. “I was thinking we'd invite some people here, have a few drinks, a few lines, music, strippers.”

“Some people?”

“Yah. Me, you, and a hundred of your closest friends.”

Dean lips tugged up in a small smile as he grabbed his half finished beer from the table, and tipped it back for a quick drink. He then pushed himself from the bed, legs shaking, throbbing under the sudden weight.

“You know I’m supposed to be clean,” Dean said, watching as Lee walked to the other bedside table, and began shifting through the drawer. 

Lee closed the cupboard, before looking back to Dean. “And that,” he said pointing the joint he had grabbed at Dean, “is what we have alcohol for.”

Dean only gave a small shake of his head. He was too exhausted to be awake, never mind think of a party, especially one that involved him not being high. Instead he began walking across Lee’s bedroom, a dull pain coming with each step. 

“I’m goin’ to get dressed,” he called over his shoulder, getting a small hum in response.

He made his way across the hallway and into his own room where he would stay the nights he was too high to make it home, closing the door behind him. He then placed his phone, and bottle on top of the low dresser, his gaze staying there for a moment. Then another, a shaken breath parting his lips as he stared at the bottle until he finally looked up, gaze meeting the mirror that had been hung on the wall. 

Hollow eyes started back, green irises locked on green irises, on the dark bags under them, on his skin that was no longer pale but ashen.

Dean raised a shaken hand trailing it through his thinning hair. 

He looked dead.

Raw.

Empty.

With bruises covering his wrists, and hips. Hickies scattering his skin. 

Used. 

His chapped lips were pressed in a tight line matching the rest of his features, not sad, but exhausted. So incredibly exhausted, from the sleepless nights, and endless nightmares, from the anxiety that seemed to only build higher in his chest. Exhausted from inside out. 

Dean let his gaze linger on his reflection for another moment before he turned away, a shaken breath parting his lips. His reflection still burned in his mind as he walked across the room and to his dresser, grabbing a pair of jeans, then a t-shirt from his closet. 

Even with his clothing in hand he didn’t start getting dressed, and instead took a seat on his bed. His eyes on his lap, stuck on the dark hickey that bruised his inner thigh. 

He felt sick.

He felt exhausted.

Sore, and abused.

This was when he would start using, taking as much coke as it took to lose the thoughts, abuse it until he could properly breath.

Maybe he was a drug addict.

Dean placed the clothing down and instead one hand trailed the bruising that covered his wrists, getting a dull pain in response. It throbbed, it hurt, it felt right. 

The same way it had with Lee minutes before or with cocaine. The line between pleasure and pain so blurred it was impossible to figure out when one ended and the other began.

Maybe he was a drug addict.

Maybe the press.

And Crowley.

And Zachariah. 

And Cas were right.

Did normal people think about coke this often. Dean wasn't sure. Could they taste it across their tongues every second of every ticking moment, could they feel it through their spines, feel the burn up their noses .

It wasn’t normal to crave it.

It wasn’t normal to taste it.

To want it and all the suffering it brought.

Maybe he was a drug addict.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, lips parted as he took an uneven gasp for air. 

He could feel the tears building up threatening to fall, the pain exploding through his chest, unbearable any longer. From weeks of building up, of avoiding. From years of running. 

Another desperate gasp shook his body as Dean pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes. He was going to break. He couldn’t break, not now, not with Crowley on his way, and Lee just across the hall. 

He couldn't break, if he did- Dean wasn’t sure he’d be able to put himself back together. 

Another gasp parted his lips, air barely filling his lungs. Lungs burning for air, heart hammering harder with each failed breath. 

Another gasp. 

Another gasp.

Another gasp.

Then a tear. 

Dean let his hands fall from his eyes and instead to his mouth, covering his lips as a sob parted them. 

Maybe he was a drug addict. 

Why did that thought bother him so much, it had never bothered him before, and he’d been called it and much worse many times. Why did it hurt so much now, why did it hurt so much to hear from Cas’s lips, he already knew he didn’t deserve the other, he already knew Cas was too good for him, so why did it hurt.

Why could he feel tugging at his heart, the only feeling through what was normally numbness. 

Maybe he was a drug addict. 

He felt another tear roll down and quickly his shaking hand was swiped across his cheek, wiping away the tear. Then once again to his eyes, rubbing at them to stop any more from forming. 

Now wasn’t the time to break. Crowely was on his way.

With that thought on his mind Dean forced himself to stand, shaking hands pulling on his boxers and jeans, then his t-shirt, followed by a flannel he found thrown over a chair. 

A shaken breath parted his lips as his gaze went back to the mirror, eyes now rimmed with red. He watched as his reflection mimicked his movements, his shaking hands running through his hair, his chest barely rising and falling, a forced smile spreading across his lips. 

He still looked exhausted, but at least, through the smile, it no longer looked like he’d been crying.

It would have to do.

Dean grabbed his phone from the dresser top before he left his room and began his walk down the hallway. The closer to the staircase he got, the clearer voices became; at first too muffled to hear, though once he made it down the staircase the fighting was clear. 

“It meant nothing” a voice screeched, “That’s your fuckin defence?”

“I didn’t fuckin’ yell at you about that dick Mark!” a voice, definitely Lee’s, screamed back. 

“That was two years ago!”

“You still fuckin did it!”

“Don’t you fuckin dare make this about me!”

A loud shattering of glass came as Dean turned the corner.

His gaze immediately darted across the large kitchen, first going to Bella who was stood a few feet from his right, a furious expression across her face, then to Lee. His friend was stood at the other side of the room, still shirtless, and with glass surrounding his bare feet. 

“And there’s the jackasses fuck toy!” Bella spat her gaze turning to Dean, eyes narrowed in nothing short of utter hate. 

“Bella,” Dean replied, not caring to hide the exhaustion in his voice. “When’d you get here?” 

“That’s all you have to say to me?”

Dean raised an eyebrow, gaze darting down the woman's body, and the tight dress she wore. It was made from a black material that hugged her body nicely, showing off her curves and partially making Dean understand why Lee was back with her. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean paused for a moment, letting his gaze once again drop down her body before looking back to her face. “Did you lose weight? How’s the stripping business? It’s been so long, maybe we can catch up over coffee?”

If Bella was furious before now Dean was sure she was seconds away from murder, her eyes narrowing, and lips snearing. “You’re a jackass.”

“And you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?”

Dean hummed in response as he stepped around her and to one of the kitchen’s shelves where bottles of alcohol were lined. “That I do it better.” 

“Do what?” Bella spat, “fuck my boyfriend?”

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, a slow breath parting his lips, he was too hungover for this.

Whatever this was. 

When his eyes fluttered back open, Dean reached up, grabbing an expensive bottle of whisky. 

“Look,” He said as he turned back around forcing a relaxed expression across his face, posture much the same. He twisted the cap off and brought the bottle to his lips for a quick swig before continuing to speak. “Next time we’ll do a who’s sluttier contest, then you can win.”

Bella’s lips widened in a dramatic smile, and for a moment Dean thought she was going to laugh. “You think I’m the slut?”

He could hear a small snicker from Lee and immediately Bella’s gaze went back to him. “You think this is fuckin’ funny?” She snapped. “So what,” Bella continued, “this jackass stumbles to your door high off his ass-“,

“Wasn’t high,” Dean mumbled, the small comment earning him a harsh glare from Bella. 

“-And you decide yah I’ll fuck him.”

Dean lent against the kitchen counter, looking from Bella to Lee, Lee’s own features sat in an unreadable expression. 

“Look Bell-“

“Oh suck a dick.”

Before Lee could reply, there was a clearing of a throat. Dean's head immediately turned at the sound, from Lee and to the kitchen entrance where Crowley stood. 

“Sorry to interrupt this episode of keeping up with the coke addicts.” Crowley hummened, his hands in his pants pockets. “But I’m here to collect Dumber?”

Dean raised an eyebrow “Dumber?” 

Crowley hummed in response, nodding towards Lee, “Dumb,” he said, before looking back to Dean. “And dumber. Now would you please collect whatever little dignity you may have left. Zachariah is waiting.”

Dean let out a sigh, though pushed himself from the counter. 

He placed the bottle down before turning back to Bella, a what he hoped was obviously fake grin across his face. “It was great seeing you.”

“Go to hell,” she spat back.

Dean only turned to Lee mouthing ‘good luck’ before he followed Crowley out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

Crowley didn't speak as they made their way through Lee’s hallways. Not that Dean needed to hear anything to know the other was pissed, his chin tilted up, and posture straight. Footsteps heavy, echoing against the walls. 

Dean didn’t mind, he prefered the silence especially over what would normally be yelling. 

He stuffed his phone into his jeans pocket, though as his finger was met with plastic he froze. 

His fingers wiggled again, able to once again feel the brush of plastic. Then again, as if the next time he’d do it the small bag would be gone. 

He pressed his thumb and pointer finger together, slowly rubbing them against the plastic; able to feel as the powder moved to his touch.

Shit. 

“Dean?” His heart stopped, eyes immediately looking up to Crowley, who’d stopped at the front door, one hand around the handle.“Is everything alright?”

Slowly Dean pulled his hand out, letting it fall back to his side. Still he could feel the drug burning in his pocket, tongue exploding with the familiar minty taste. The spike that would be felt through his spine, the immediate euphoria that would wash over. 

“Yah,” He finally mustered, giving a nod of his head. “Fuckin’ fantastic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo hi!   
> I’m currently trying writing shorter chapters (more around 1500-2000) instead of 3000+. I think I should be able to get more chapters out more frequently and I also feel like the stories a bit more stable... but I’m not sure!   
> What do you guys prefer?


	51. Chapter fifty

“I never thought of you as a homewrecker,” Crowley hummed twenty minutes into what had once been their completely silent drive. His tone was light, almost teasing, though still Dean didn’t glance to the other, instead continuing to stare out the passenger window, watching as the city streets blurred by. The city lights bright against the evening sky. 

His breath stayed stuck in his throat, lungs burning, begging for even a breath.

He hadn’t been breathing properly since they’d left Lee’s. The cocaine still burning against his leg as his fingers would trace it then fall back to his side when he realized what he was doing. Only for the action to be repeated seconds later. 

He should have taken the few more steps when he was going to get dressed, the few more steps to Lee's billiard room where the clothing he’d arrived in scattered the floor. That thought ticked at his mind. Over and over. If he’d just taken a few more steps. That thought laced with every other ticking thought. When had it ended up in his pocket, months ago possibly, sometime before he’d left to New York. Maybe Lee had borrowed his jeans and forgotten about it. Maybe- Dean wasn’t sure, every racing possibility blurring with the next. 

It didn’t matter, it was with him now, it was in his pocket.

How much more was still in his clothing at his own home. How many pockets had forgotten bags, and unused needles. Suitcases, flannels, jeans. He had meant to clean, to find anything he may have laying around, but between Cas, Jack, and being busy at the studio, he hadn't found the time.

He didn’t have the time, or maybe he was scared, Dean wasn’t sure.

Scared to throw out something he’d spent so long relying on. 

He should throw it out now, he should have dropped it the moment he’d felt it against his finger tips. 

He should have.

He couldn’t

“Dean.” His hand jolted back to his side from his pocket he’d been unintentionally tracing, while his gaze immediately went to Crowley, the other not meeting his stare and instead looking out the window as he drove.

“I don’t think it counts as homewrecking if they break up every second month,” Dean snapped. “They’ll fuck and be fine.”

Crowley’s lips pressed together, his gaze darting to Dean for a moment. A moment that was much too long for Dean’s liking. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Dean’s lips parted, hesitating before he spoke. “Yah,” He forced himself to take a slow breath attempting to steady his racing heart. “I’d be better if I didn’t have to go to the bullshit meeting.”

“I don’t think you realize,” Crowley replied, the once light tone gone, replaced with something closer to a warning. “how absolutely done Dick is with your crap.” 

“Done? Please he loves me.”

“As far as I’m aware,” Dean’s fingers itched closer to his jean’s pocket, fingers trailing against the rough material, “in the past few months you’ve been arrested for having cocaine on you, missed an interview meant to fix that, were arrested again for having heroin on you, had an overdose, and are now been accused of relapse.” Crowley paused for a moment, the silence hanging heavy in the car. “The money you make them is starting to become not worth the trouble you cause.”

Dean clenched his jaw. Part of him knew Crowley was right, and part of him knew he should care, this was his career, yet he couldn't. He was too exhausted, too abused, too numb. Did it really matter whether he was selling out stadiums, or on the side of the street dead. 

Instead of replying Dean turned his head, looking back out the window, any day light that had once tinted the sky now rapidly fading. Fingers once again on his pocket, outlining the bag.

“Could you please behave yourself for the meeting,” Crowley asked. The frustration was clear in his voice, and Dean didn’t need to look to know the way his hands would be gripping the steering wheel, knuckles almost white. “And do whatever Zachariah has planned without argument?”

Dean didn’t flinch, a steady breath leaving his nose, jaw still clenched.

“The last thing we need is more problems.”

“Understood?”

Once again Dean didn’t reply.

The rest of the drive was done in silence, Dean continuously running his fingers across his pocket, watching the bright lights. The city streets that were alive with activity, with people already filling the clubs, the streets even as night fell just as busy as the mornings. It was so different from New York, from the small apartment Sam lived in. 

He wondered how Sam was doing. He hoped his brother was okay.   
By the time they pulled up to a tall building neither of them had spoken, the silence continuing as Dean got out of the car, and followed Crowley through the front entrance. Then up the elevator, and down a hallway, stopping once they reached the conference room, and pushed the doors open. 

“Zachariah,” Crowley greeted as they stepped into the large conference room. The majority of it was filled by a rectangular table where Dean’s publicist already sat, a clearly annoyed expression across his face. 

“Crowley, Dean,” Zachariah replied, “you’re late.”

“Yes,” Dean could feel Crowley's gaze go to him though despite that he didn’t look to the other and instead walked across the room, taking a seat across from Zacharia, while Crowley sat next to him. “We faced some… problems.”

“Well then let’s make this as quick as possible.”

Finally something Dean could agree with.

Zachariah looked to his laptop, fingers sliding across the keypad as he read through whatever lit his screen. “Dean, you said it was a panic attack?”

“Yah.”

“Are you sure you weren’t high?”

“Am I sure,” he finally began sarcasm lacing his word. “If I didn’t buy cocaine, dissolve it, fill the needle, then inject it into my arm?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’re right maybe I forgot and I was fuckin’ high.”

Zachariah only pressed his lips together, glaring daggers back at Dean, that frankly Dean couldn’t care for. 

Fuck he was too exhasuted for this. 

Finally Zachariah looked back to his laptop, though Dean’s own gaze stayed locked on him. “Then tomorrow you’ll be having an interview with LA Magazine,” Zachariah explained. “Talk about rehab, life now. Try to make yourself look good, talk about that kid of yours if you have to.”

“He’s not my kid.”

“Well they don’t need to know that,” Zachariah, closed his laptop folding his hands on top of it. “I’ve emailed you questions similar to the ones they may ask and how I want you to respond, read through them when you get home.” 

Zachariah’s eyes stayed locked on him, holding something Dean couldn’t quite explain. Maybe a challenge, waiting for him to snap, to admit he’d been high the whole, that the press was right. That he was a drug addict.

Dean’s hand fell back to his side, from the pocket he’d been once again tracing. 

Maybe he was. 

Would he have kept the bag if he wasn’t.

Would it feel so good to even have on him if he wasn’t. 

Maybe he was a drug addict. 

Dean’s jaw clenched, his fingers once again resting against his pocket. From his right he could hear Crowley shift, then the clearing of his throat. “And is that it?” his manager asked. 

Zachariah didn’t look away from Dean, leaving an uneasy feeling in his stomach. “You said it was a panic attack?” Dean nodded. “And that you’ve been having them frequently,” another hesitated nod that made Zachariah finally look to Crowley. “Then I think we get him anxiety medication.” 

“Are you a bloody idiot,” Crowley spat, voicing echoing through the large conference room, and making Dean’s hangover pound worse than before. “He’s just gotten clean and your brilliant plan is to pump him full of more drugs?” Zachariah opened his mouth to speak though before he could get anything out Crowley was screaming again. “What other of his problems would you like to continue to promote? His alcoholism? Or what about his sex addiction, or maybe his daddy issues?”

“My what,” Dean asked not even receiving a glance as both men continued to glare at one another. 

“Do you have a better plan?”

“Yes,” Crowley continued, voice never faltering, which Dean, though never would tell the other, found incredibly impressive and incredibly terrifying. “Anything else!”

Dean glanced between the two, as an obvious breath raised Zacharia’s chest, then lowered it, his own voice stuck in his throat.

More drugs. 

This time to fix his problems that drugs had caused.   
More drugs. 

Meant to do what, stop his anxiety, that drugs had caused. 

More drugs. 

The whole idea spun his head. His heart hammering, making it almost impossible to hear what the other men were saying.

“What are we supposed to do if he has melted down on stage, or during a meet and greet? Because We all know what they will be assuming it is.”

“He’s an addict.”

“If he’s having panic attacks we need to help him.”

“He will not be gett-”

“Ladies.” Dean finally snapped, “we get you’re both pretty.” He took a deep breath, the air barely filling his lungs as he looked to Zachariah, Crowley's glare burning against the side of his head “So what? I pop a few pills and my panic attacks stop?”

“Dean,” Crolwey said, voice in a warning tone.

Dean didn’t look away from Zachariah, only clenching his teeth together. “You’ll have to see a psychiatrist.”

“I’m not seeing another fuckin’ therpaist.”

“You have to if you-”

“Im not seeing another fuckin’ therpaist,” Dean snapped. “Isn’t this fuckin’ America, can’t we just pay a shit ton of money to get what we want.”

Neither men replied, instead going back to glaring at one another. “Do we have any other choice,” Zacharia continued. “Look at him. We could find a corpse that looked more alive.”

“He’s an addict,” Crowley snapped

“An ex addict.”

Dean let out a shaken breath gaze going to the large windows that covered the back wall of the room, the dark sky lit by the city lights.

He was hungover. 

He was dying.

The sleep exhaustion, from endless nights of forcing himself to stay awake, or being awoken by nightmares, were catching up on him. How much more could he take, how much longer could he last. 

Another shaken breath parted his lips. He looked back to Zachariah, meeting the other’s stare.

“I’ll get the prescription.”

“Dean,” Crowley warned.

“I’m getting the prescription.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've said so I just wanted to thank you guys all so much for continuing to read this story, and comment, and be so kind, and just all around amazing people! I honestly can't thank you guys enough!  
> I hope you all had a fantastic halloween, and are having an amazing Monday!
> 
> -Paige


	52. Chapter fifty one

When Dean got home that night he was welcomed by darkness, nothing but the moon's low glow lighting the kitchen as he stepped in. It should have been calming, he should have appreciated the silence that had washed over the house, the momentary break from his spiraling life, yet he couldn’t stop his hammering heart. 

He couldn’t find the silence soothing as he brewed himself a cup of coffee.

The sudden contrast from what had been constant chaos only further tensing his body.

His stomach twisting as his socked feet padded across the wooden floor, the mug warm against his hands, filled with a mix of coffee and whisky.

The only thing that gave him any sense of calm was that Cas must have been asleep, the second floor just as dark as the first and Cas’s bedroom door closed. Cas was asleep and Dean wouldn’t have to see him. No awkward conversation after their fight. No eye contact that lasted far too long, not that Dean usually minded, and definitely no guilt that would surely come as Cas would tilt his head and the drug would burn against Dean’s pocket.

No Cas, and instead Dean was left to walk into his darkened bedroom undisturbed. He flipped on the light before making his way across his room and to his bedside table where he pulled open the drawer. His gaze staying locked on the various contents that filled it as he placed his mug down. 

Eyes staying there even as his hand went from around the mug and instead to his jeans pocket. The silence hanging around him, heavy as he slid his hand into his pocket. Thick as with shaking hands Dean pulled out the small bag, and raised it so for the first he could see the drug that filled it. 

The white powder stared back at him. Familiar and welcoming, traced with a taunt. A tease as the energy, the confidence, the pure euphoria was at the tip of his fingers, only a thin layer of plastic away. He could taste it across his tongue as if the drug already laced his mind. He could feel the way the needle would pinch his skin, the minty spike that would shoot up his spine. 

He knew it, and with it staring back, it knew him. 

Fuck.

Dean’s grip didn’t loosen.

Fuck.

Put it down, that had been his plan. Shove it into his bedside drawer where it would stay until Lee came by and he could give it to his friend.

Fuck.

One line, just whatever the bag had to offer. He wouldn’t get anything more after that.

Fuck. 

One hit

It wouldn’t kill him- or maybe he’d be lucky. 

Dean’s heart jumped at the sudden sound of a door creaking open, and almost immediately the drug was being dropped and the drawer closed. As if it had never happened, as if the thoughts had never crossed his mind. 

He took a step back, eyes darting to the Tombstone poster that hung on his wall, then to the doorway. He hadn’t wanted it. He wasn’t going to do it. No. Dean didn’t want it. He didn’t crave it. 

That thought continued to tick at his mind as he quietly walked back across his room, and towards the hallway, heart still hammering. He didn’t want it. He’d been looking, thinking, wondering, not considering. 

Definitely not wanting. 

Dean lent back into the hallway, squinting slightly as he was just able to just see Jack’s small frame through the darkeness. 

“Kid,” Dean whispered, Jack immediately looking up from Cas’s door where he stood, an arm raised, one hand wrapped around the door knob. “Why’re you up?”

“I want daddy,” Jack whispered. 

Dean slowly walked across the hall, careful to keep his footsteps quiet as he stopped in front of Jack, crouching to his height. The child’s eyes staying on him the whole time, wide and visible even through the darkness. “What’s wrong?” Dean whispered.

“Sere’s a monster.”

“A monster?” Dean repeated, unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips, something that only grew as Jack gave him a very serious nod. “Well then how ‘bout you show me.” 

Dean offered his hand and Jack didn’t move, instead continuing to stare at Dean. The silence hanging heavy around them until slowly Jack reached out, grabbing Dean's fingers into a tiny fist, and pulling him across the hall, and into his bedroom.

With Jack’s hand still in his own Dean’s gaze darted across the bedroom. Across the bright yellow walls and the toys that littered the floor both old ones and new ones Dean had bought Jack, most of the time while ignoring Cas’s disapproving stare. The blankets on his bed were messy, and on one chair there was a folded pile of clothing that had yet to be put away, though no matter where Dean looked there was no monster.

“Ya sure there’s a monster?” Dean asked, gaze dropping back to the child, who was already looking back with an angered look. The kind of anger that only a child could have, the kind that was supposed to be nothing short of furious though with his round cheeks, and big eyes, it was only adorable. 

“Yah,” Jack cried, he let go of Dean’s hand and pointed towards the closet. “In sere.”

Dean raised an eyebrow though didn’t make another argument and instead walked across the room to the closet, the sliding doors pushed open by a crack. He stuck his head in and was met with a hazy darkness, the outlines of Jack's hanging clothing and shoes that littered the floor just visible.

Cas’s organizing skills weren’t fantastic though Dean doubt that counted as a monster, or at least not to Jack. 

“Well shit kid,” Dean hummed as he looked back to the child. “Looks like you’re right.” 

Jack’s bottom lip puckered out, eyes never leaving Dean as he walked back to where Jack stood. “there is a monster,” Dean continued, keeping his voice in an almost whisper. He crouched down, so he was almost the same height as Jack, his gaze darting down the dark blue pajamas Jack wore, before going back to his face. “And you’re keepin’ him up.”

“No!” Jack insisted, in such a serious tone, Dean had to bite his lip to keep his own face straight. 

“Yah.” Dean picked Jack up, able to feel the child's eyes still burning against the side of his face as he stood and began walking across the bedroom. “Did you talk to him?” This time Jack didn’t respond as Dean placed him back on the bed. “Well I did and he just wants some sleep.” 

“But-“ Jack glanced to the closet before looking back. “It’s mean.”

“Maybe because he’s tired.”

Jack puckered his bottom lip out, his eyes pleading in a way that Dean knew was supposed to be fake yet still tugged at his stomach. 

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, Jack’s face immediately spreading into a grin. “How about I sit here and make sure it doesn’t get you?” 

“Pomise?”

“Promise.”

Without another argument Jack crawled back under his covers, leaving Dean to turn off the light, before he sat on the ground next to the head of the bed. His back rested against the wall, one knee raised while his other leg spread out, his eyes on Jack, watching as the child fell back to sleep. 

Dean's hand shifted, resting against his other’s wrist as he watched. Mindlessly rubbing across the bruising skin, the dull pain that came more welcoming than anything. 

Jack trusted him to sit and watch for monsters. Jack trusted him. That thought continued to ring through Dean’s head as his fingers trailed his wrist. No matter what he’d done. No matter who’d he’d hurt, both on accident and on purpose. Jack trusted him despite the fact his skin was now bruised with hickeys, and his drawer was filled with drugs. 

Jack trusted him and Dean didn’t deserve it. 

Any of it, the child’s giggles that would ring through the house as he played. His wide grins that rounded his cheeks, and made his eyes shine. Dean didn’t deserve the way Jack followed him around, the trust Jack gave him, or anyway the child treated him. 

Dean didn’t deserve Jack, and he never would. 

Not after everything he’d done. 

“Dean?” His gaze immediately darted up, landing on Cas who was stood in the doorway, his fingers going from his wrist and instead of his jacket sleeve tugging the fabric as far down as it would go. “What are you doing?” 

“Uh- you know,” Dean glanced to Jack who was still fast asleep before looking back to Cas. “Monsters.”

“Monsters?”

“Yah,” Dean hummed as Cas raised an eyebrow in question.“Don’t worry, I think I scared it off.” 

The smallest smile tugged across Cas’s lips and for a moment Dean could only return it. Heart slightly lighter than before, whatever had weighed in his gut seeming to give him a moments break. Just one moment where he could watch as Cas quietly walked across the room, footsteps not making a sound as he made his way to where Dean sat. 

Slowly he sat between Dean and Jack, his knees brought to his chest, and eyes on Dean. They were sat close, not that Dean was shocked anymore, they always sat close, close enough that Dean could see the rise and fall of Cas’s chest, almost lean in, feel the others warmth, just fingertips away. 

Always just fingertips away.

Deam could feel his heart pick up pace as his eyes stayed locked on Cas’s, for an uneasy breath. Then another. Then when Dean wasn’t sure his heart could handle beating so fast for much longer his gaze dropped instead to Cas’s feet, studying the socks he wore. A blue sock over his right foot covered in what Dean assumed were small bees, while a plain green one covered his left. 

It was cute, Cas was cute.

“Dean.” He hummed looking back up, his eyes once again meeting Cas’s wide ones. “I- I should apologize for this morning,” Cas continued. “You didn’t deserve that it’s just- when I had awoken and you and Jack were gone I had assumed-”

Cas took a shaken breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before they were open again. The expression that traced his face was mostly emotionless though underlined with pain, distress. A look that made Dean want to lean in and hug other, hold him until he knew Cas was okay. 

“Cas-” Dean began.

“I know you won’t hurt him, but Dean-” Cas paused as a shaken breath parted Dean’s lips, his own heart seeming to pick up pace or stop all together. 

He hated the tone Cas spoke in, no shake, no pain, just empty.

He hated the way Cas’s eyes burned against his own, the haze that covered them visible even through the darkness. 

Most of all he hated that they always seemed to end up sitting next to one another as Cas broke and Dean was left to watch. 

Watch as Cas’s lips parted before he spoke again, voice gravelly and raw. “I’m scared.” 

“Everytime I leave him alone, it- He-” Cas’s eyes squeezed shut, a shaken breath parting his lips before they fluttered open again. “Im scared when I come back he’ll be gone.”

“I can’t,” Cas whispered. The pain clear in his voice, stabbing at Dean’s heart. The pain laced with exhaustion, with distress, with absolute break. “I can’t loose him.”

That’s when the first tear fell.

Followed by a second.

Then before Dean could see anymore he was leaning in, pulling the other into a tight hug. 

He could feel the Cas bury his face into the crook of his neck, his own chin rested against Cas’s shoulder. Eyes looking to the ceiling, attempting to numb out the sobs that rang through the room, as he forced his own breathing to stay calm. To not feel the way Cas shook in his arms. 

Small, unhealthily small.

Shaking. 

Broken.

Dean's grip tightened, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he felt Cas gasp for a breath. “I-I’m- I’m sorry Dean-” Cas gasped through sobs, his grip tight around Dean’s jacket. “You-

“Cas,” Dean insisted, “it’s okay.”

“You were- you were being- incredibly kind.”

“Don’t apologize.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Please,” Dean insisted, voice coming out more pleading than anything, “don’t apologize.” 

For a moment the room sat in silence, only broken by Cas’s occasional gasp, and Dean’s own low breaths, his one hand resting against Cas’s lower back, while the other rested between his shoulder blades. 

Dean didn’t speak, he didn’t think he could.

Any thought that passed his mind wasn’t enough, there was nothing he could say that could make the situation better. Nothing that could stop Cas’s fears. No reassurances, no matter how many times or no matter the way. Instead he held the other for what felt like hours. Holding Cas tight in his arms until he heard the other begin to speak, the once silent room filled with Cas’s low voice, “I called him.”

Dean didn’t move, staying frozen in place as Cas slowly lifted his head, looking back with red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. ‘I know’ rested against Dean’s lips, though no matter how much Dean tried, the words never seemed to fall and instead he stared, his own breath hitched in his throat. 

Finally Cas’s gaze dropped, and instead he stared at his socks, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his pant leg. “In Chicago,” Cas continued softly, Dean’s heart dropping at the words. 

In Chicago.

Not last week, when they’d been painting Jack’s room.

In Chicago.

How many more times had there been. 

“Jack had wanted to see him so bad,” Cas continued. “And I couldn’t listen to him cry any longer.”

“So you-” 

Cas gave the smallest nod of his head. “We talked for a while about unimportant things,” Dean’s body tensed as Cas’s eyes once again squeezed shut for a moment, only to soon flutter open again. “He apologized for how things ended, and hoped Jack was doing well... he hoped I was doing well.”

Cas looked back up his gaze meeting Dean’s, the pain that cludded them visible even through the darkness. A pain that made Dean want to lean back in, as if he alone could heal what shattered those beautiful eyes.

“I miss him.”

“He was a jackass,” Dean whispered.

Cas’s eyes didn’t leave Dean’s, his expression seeming to break even further. “Then why do I hurt so bad?”

Dean’s lips parted, and for a moment nothing came, his own fingers traveling back to his wrist, trailing the bruise stained skin. The bruises that since he’d last checked had become a darkening purple, matching the hickies that scattered his collar bones, and burned against his inner thigh. The ache that blurred out the cravings.

The ache he’d caused, the ache he’d chosen. 

“I get it,” Dean finally whispered. “You know you shouldn't but you miss it, hell you miss the pain.”

Cas tilted his head slightly, wide eyes locked on Dean. “You look healthier now,” he whispered. 

Dean almost laughed at that, healthier? Cause sleeping two hours a night at most was healthy, cause drinking himself to the point of blacking out was healthy, cause being able to taste the drug as if he’d already used it was healthy.

Dean wasn’t healthy, and he knew that. If anything he was sure, with each ticking second that passed, he was walking closer to death's grasp.

Despite the thought Dean didn’t reply, instead watching silently as Cas lips parted, and the other spoke once again.

“You were always so pale and restless looking,” Cas continued. “I was worried you would die.”

“Well,” Dean hummed hoping his voice held the light tone he’d tried to speak with. “I’m still kickin’ it. Fucked up, but I’m kickin’ it.”

“I think we’re both- fucked up.”

“Yah,” Dean whispered, unable to stop the small smile that tugged across his face, mimicking the one across Cas’s. “I guess we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ignoring canon :)


	53. Chapter fifty two

Living with Dean reminded Cas of what it was like when he was a child and would walk into church. The stained glass seeming to tower above, the roof so high that it was impossible to feel big, and the cross at the front glaring down at anyone who dare walked down the aisle. All around leaving an eerie feeling that couldn't quiet be placed. A tense feeling deep in his stomach that something was suppose to happen, something that never did, that maybe it was Cas himself who was the problem. 

He never knew what to do in Dean's house, he never knew how to act, where to stand, how to walk. Leaving him constantly tense, waiting for the moment that Dean would snap, though through the month Cas had lived with him he never did. He wasn't sure if that was worse, the seconds ticking by as he waited for the first scream to come, or a glass to be thrown, or if things got really bad, a hand to strike. Body stuck between fight or flight. Part of him wanted Dean to snap at least if Dean did then he'd be predictable, understandable, but instead Cas was left unsure.

Unsure about everything.

About whether he really should take the final step and simply apply to renew his zoology license, something that felt incredibly wrong, almost like betrayal. 

About if he truly did have a reason to fear loosing Jack. It had been a misunderstanding, lack of communication, a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding. It was a misunderstanding, so why did it terrify him so much. 

About deleting Logan's number. He should. He couldn't. He enjoyed talking to the other too much, he enjoyed where their relationship was at, similar to when they were friends, or had just started dating. Part of Cas wondered if their relationship could be fixed, if he'd made a mistake, made some assumptions, maybe a small scare was all they needed. 

He was unsure about his feelings.

About his thoughts.

About himself.

And most of all about Dean. 

There were only three things about Dean Winchester that Cas was absolutely sure of. 

One, he was known not only for his music but his scandals; a mix of parties and one night stands, of lawsuits over car crashes, and rumoured arrests. 'Do you really want Jack around that,' Logan had said in the midst of one of their weekly fights. Cas knew the answer, though he hadn't been able to bring himself to whisper it. 

Two, he was an addict, or a now ex addict, something else Logan had told him, though Sam had confirmed. 

And three, Dean Winchester was so much more than either of those things.


End file.
